


Perspective

by d_aia



Category: Black Panther (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, BAMF T'Challa (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Brainwashing, Christine Everhart Friendly, Consent Issues, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Not Black Panther (2018) Compliant, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, POV T'Challa (Marvel), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Team Tony Stark, Thanos War, Therapy, Tramatic Loss of Memory, Wakanda, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: “My King.” Nareema bows. “A young man appeared at the southern border a couple of hours ago. He’s asking to see you.”That gets T’Challa’s attention fast. His eyes narrow. “Sounds interesting.” He leans back in his seat.“His name is Peter Parker. Mr. Parker claims to be Spider-Man.  He has proved his abilities to Teela’s satisfaction,” Nareema announces. “He also claims that Tony Stark is missing, and no one will believe him. You, sir, are his last resort.”T’Challa stares.*When Tony is kidnapped by HYDRA, T'Challa finds himself plunged into Avenger-drama, but it has its advantages.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the movie (and characters, locations, personal histories etc as are shown in it).This is the work of fanfiction.
> 
> Warnings: Not Natasha Friendly; Not Clint Barton Friendly; Some of you might interpret it's not Wanda-Friendly or Pepper-Friendly; Tony is seen as cruelly tied up; The tag 'Consent Issues' is in reference to Mantis and her use of powers; Threatened Slavery. If you see any more you'd like me to list, write me a line and I'll get to it. 
> 
> Thanks: Lex and Arwenxs, thank you for all your help and cheerleading! I couldn't have written this without you :D. 
> 
> Updates: At the end of the week (Thu-Sat). 
> 
> A/N: This fanfiction doesn't focus on Tony's kidnapping but on his recovery. The therapy tag is there, but, as it's not undertaken by T'Challa, it only appears as something he encourages and deals with the family's perspective on it. Neither the therapist nor Tony talk in detail about what happens in the sessions. I hope you enjoy!

T’Challa is looking over his National Security report when there’s a knock on his door. He calls out, “Enter!”

“My King.” Nareema bows. “A young man appeared at the southern border a couple of hours ago. He’s asking to see you.”

That gets T’Challa’s attention fast. His eyes narrow. “Sounds interesting.” He leans back in his seat.

“His name is Peter Parker. Mr. Parker claims to be Spider-Man.  He has proved his abilities to Teela’s satisfaction,” Nareema announces. “He also claims that Tony Stark is missing, and no one will believe him. You, sir, are his last resort.”

 T’Challa stares.

*

T’Challa hasn’t talked to Tony Stark since the events in Leipzig, two years ago.

One month later, T’Challa received the Binarily Augmented Retro Framing Device with an instruction manual and no other note. None was needed. It was clear that Stark knew—that T’Challa had been there, that he was the one who offered Rogers and Barnes shelter, that T’Challa inadvertently betrayed his father’s memory when he helped the very person responsible for his people’s death evade authorities. At the next UN meeting Stark was called to testify, however, he didn’t talk to T’Challa, didn’t make some subtle reference, Stark didn’t even look at T’Challa. And T’Challa felt ashamed for the first time since he became king.

It has happened a few times since then, but that first time still stung.

T’Challa feels the bitter taste of guilt and shame in his mouth as he enters the interrogation room.

“Good morning,” T’Challa greets.

Peter Parker is a young man with brown hair and eyes, and, from what T’Challa remembers, a lot of unseen strength.

“G-good morning, sir.” Parker stutters. “Ah.” He swallows. “Thank you for receiv—seeing me.”

Parker seems to be having trouble holding eye contact. And yet. Parker is here. It must’ve taken a lot of money, time, effort, and resourcefulness to make it to T’Challa, which means that Parker cares about this meeting a great deal. Maybe a better way of phrasing the problem is: he cares about Stark a great deal.

T’Challa can’t help but respect that and think that Parker gave his respect wisely.

“I am afraid you are going to have to repeat your story,” T’Challa says as gently as possible. “But first, would you like something to eat or drink?”

Parker shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “It happened on Monday between eleven a.m. and eight p.m.,” he says, stressing the hours. “Tony—uh, Mr. Stark, went to a meeting with the Representatives of Orthopedics for the New York Hospitals in the morning because he wanted to donate high-tech prosthetics, and he ended up being invited to Mount Sinai. He was there until eleven. I confirmed. But after he left no one knows anything.”

“Why are you sure he disappeared?” T’Challa asks.

“We were supposed to look over the suit specks for the Spider-Man costume at eight. I knew he wouldn’t miss it.”

“Do the police know?”

“They laughed me out of the station.” Parker looks down with a guilty blush. “Our relationship is not known because nobody knows I’m Spider-Man. And Tony is a hero. They wouldn’t believe me.”

T’Challa raises his eyebrows. “And what is that relationship?”

Parker sends him such a vicious look that T’Challa is taken aback.

“Tony’s my mentor,” Parker says coldly. “He’s been kind enough to protect me, and advise me, and offer me all the resources I need. I would be—”

Lifting a hand, T’Challa interrupts him. “I understand.”

Parker is incandescent in his rage for another few seconds before he deflates. “I’m really worried about him.”

T’Challa smiles his understanding. “How did you know where to confirm?”

“Tony told me. He wondered if he could promise the kids a visit from Spider-Man.”

That may be, but T’Challa is sure it’s not the full story. “You know his schedule.”

“Sometimes.” Parker shrugs. “It’s not like he checks with me every time he leaves the house, but he likes letting me know where I can find him if I need anything.”

Something occurs to T’Challa. “How did you get to Africa?”

“With Mr. Stark’s private jet,” Parker admits with a sheepish smile. “Then a car with a guide, and a boat. Tony told me I could use the money and the jet, and apparently told the pilots too so…” He trails off. “I wouldn’t have used it in any other case.”

T’Challa studies him for several moments. As usual, Stark presents a conundrum. He is very generous, but he’s extremely generous to people he’s close to, and those people, in turn, exceed expectations in some way.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Find him.”

“And why am I your last resort?”

“There’s nobody else: Mr. Rhodes is in Japan; Ms. Potts only speaks to him through intermediaries; Mr. Hogan won’t speak to him until Ms. Potts does; and Vision is on a round-the-world trip. I don’t know how to get in contact with half of them and the rest wouldn’t believe me.” Parker makes eye contact. “I don’t know where the former Avengers are, but Your Majesty was briefly on his team.”

T’Challa feels the accusation floating unspoken in the air. “Mr. Parker, things will go much faster if you speak plainly.”

“Tony told me that there are lessons he learned, that he wants to share with me, and that I may find useful, or completely useless. Right? It’s up to me to tell which is which.” Parker swallows again, his hands clench together. “There are two that fit here. One, that I should try to give a solution to a problem if I’m pointing it out to the general public. And I mean, sure, I got Friday to hack the feeds. He gets kidnapped. That’s the problem.

“But I can’t go anywhere with the footage,” Parker says desperately. “No one would help me. The same thing would happen, I would get laughed out of the room, and just have people being suspicious towards me. What would that accomplish? And if I send it to the news, or put it online, maybe people still wouldn’t believe me, or maybe they would and then they would panic.” He leans forward. “But if I get a King and a known associate of his to be on it, then that might speed things along, and calm everyone. The solution.”

“And the second?” T’Challa asks.

It comes out cold and impersonal, but it’s because T’Challa’s shocked. The lessons are the same kind of training he received, and Parker took to them beautifully. T’Challa just needs a moment to figure out why it struck such a deep chord in him.

Maybe it’s because Stark reminds T’Challa of his own teachers, particularly his father. It may be because Parker is aware he’s responsible for other people’s lives, is probably set to be responsible for their fates, and he shows all the signs of being competent. Or maybe, it comes back to Stark, and T’Challa has never been more right about somebody’s qualities or so ashamed about T’Challa’s own behavior towards Stark.

“How do a couple of people stranded in Siberia catch a ride?” Parker asks dryly, watching T’Challa with intelligent eyes. “I wanted Tony to turn you in, but he said no. That you, sir, were trying to right a wrong. He also said that it’s up to me when I choose to use that leverage, but I shouldn’t use an advantage if it didn’t think it was worth it. That was the second lesson I applied to the situation: never waste a foothold.

“He left it to me. I could use the advantage then and he won’t say anything about it, or I could wait for a better time. And I did.” Parker takes a deep breath, and says determinately, “You owe him, Your Majesty. He made it possible for you to have your redemption.”

 Parker lifts his chin and watches T’Challa defiantly.

And T’Challa rubs his forehead, letting out a chuckle. Both Stark and Parker have what T’Challa always knew as the Panther spirit: the kindness that is a classic staple for every Tribe, the viciousness and the strategic mind of a Predator Tribe, and the responsibility of the Panther Tribe. Parker is clearly the heir, and he’s doing a wonderful job so far.

However, T’Challa sees a family resemblance in Stark’s behavior. He’s acting like a king, being the driving force behind a big change like T’Chaka was, but Stark is also a Prince just turned king to each new responsibility he takes on and, like T’Challa, sometimes Stark fails. It’s like Stark is a mixed image of T’Challa and his father.

It brings T’Challa to a point where he feels protective of Parker and wants him to succeed. Also, T’Challa regrets that he ever let his embarrassment get in the way of knowing Stark better. Perhaps not all is lost. So when Teela frowns and moves towards Parker, T’Challa, with renewed hope, waves her away. Time to add his own teachings.

“I owe him,” T’Challa acknowledges. “But what is more important, I respect him.” Because that’s the thing; if T’Challa didn’t have any fond feelings toward Stark, T’Challa could have easily got out of it. Or, he reassesses as he watches Parker’s body language, he would have eventually got out. “Blackmail would never work with me, and, I dare say, in Wakanda. And reminding me of my debt was a bold move that could have gone either way for you.”

Parker nods, but he also shrugs, conveying to T’Challa that Parker is aware of that. That’s great. T’Challa could get to the point.

“However, in this situation, you are cornered and you did the only thing you could. You did well by coming to me,” T’Challa says with a smile.

Parker’s expression rapidly shifts from surprised to confused. He studies T’Challa with desperation before a smile blooms on Parker’s face. Hope can easily be read on his face.

“Now, let us see what we have.” T’Challa gestures to Teela who, to her credit, doesn’t hesitate. “I understand that you have managed to obtain footage?”

“What?” Parker asks, still looking like he can’t believe he succeeded. “Oh.” He shakes his head comically. “I apologize, Your Majesty. Yes, I have it on a thumb drive. It’s… uh, they took it from me.”

“I know.”

Teela enters the room with a slim Stark laptop and a thumb drive attached. “I sent the footage to our analysts, sir,” she says, meaning that they will handle further hacking.

T’Challa nods, and presses play. He pauses almost immediately. “Where is this?”

“It’s a camera from an ATM facing an alley next to the hospital,” Parker answers.

“I see,” T’Challa replies.

But T’Challa almost doesn’t, because the image is really crappy. He _thinks_ he sees Stark fighting with a man with a suspiciously bulky coat and managing to grab something just as plaster begins to rain down on him. Plaster and holes in the wall above him. Presumably, someone starts shooting. Stark rolls out of the way, gets the coat open revealing a bomb. But plaster continues to rain down, so Stark crosses the alley, dragging the man and the bomb after him. He shoots a pulse at the other end of the alley.

Then Stark kneels and does something to the bomb. Presumably, disables it. When other shots start raining down on him from the opposite direction, he’s distracted. He gets hit. But he has disassembled the bomb and spreads its parts on the ground. He gets hit again. A van parks in front of the alley just as he stumbles. When the van is gone, so is Stark, the man, and the bomb.

T’Challa plays it again.

“Did the man with the explosives get Mr. Stark out of the hospital?” T’Challa asks as he watches.

 “Yes, the nurse said he had a message for Tony and then they left together, sir,” Parker answers promptly. “I think he might’ve have threatened to blow himself up with all the kids there.”

“That is what I was thinking,” T’Challa agrees absently. He reaches the part where Stark shoots a pulse at no one. “What is happening here?”

“I found fresh blood at that end of the alley. It might not be related, but, sir, it’s not like Tony has a habit of shooting at nothing.”

“What about the bullets?”

Parker hesitates. “I found several in the wall, I took one and I brought it with me. It’s on the plane, Your Majesty.”

“We’d like to have a look at it.” T’Challa hits play again. “Someone had to know about the change in his schedule.”

 “That’s what I was thinking, but where to begin?” Parker asks desperately. “Sir, it could have been one of the Representatives, one their assistants that were present, or one of the people at Mount Sinai. Hell, someone could have seen him leave with the Representative from Mount Sinai.”

“You begin anywhere you would like as long as you get to interrogate everyone.” T’Challa addresses Teela. “Do we have a camera overlooking the side of the street the ATM is on?”

 “Checking now, sir,” Teela says.

“Do you see something, sir?” Parker asks quietly.

“No,” T’Challa admits. “But I expect to see something.”

 “King T’Challa,” Teela says, and there’s new footage on the laptop. They watch in silence for a couple of seconds when T’Challa sees the woman. “There,” Teela confirms.

On the other side of the street, a woman is very obviously scanning the street and the alley while talking on the phone. Nobody reacts to the sound of gunshots, so T’Challa expects they used a silencer. But the second a bullet hits Stark, she’s talking on the phone. And as soon as she sees the van she leaves.

T’Challa zooms in on her. Pretty, in her thirties, brown hair, and no defining characteristics. Teela transfers the picture to her bead, and to their surprise, it pings with a result not two seconds later. Must have been something Teela had been working on recently. A hologram unfurls with ease, and there the woman is: Cassandra Duce, SHIELD turned HYDRA Agent.

Stark was kidnapped by HYDRA. Parker inhales loudly, and T’Challa can’t help but agree. This is… not good.

*

“Why are you doing this?” Teela asks once they’re alone.

Parker has let himself be convinced to go with Nareema to get something to eat. He’s going to need his strength. And T’Challa has to think about what he plans to do.

“You don’t approve?” T’Challa asks dryly.

“It’s not for me to approve.”

“Teela.”

“I don’t disagree, but you know what would help me decide?”

“If I answer your question?”

“Yes,” Teela answers with a smile.

“I owe him, like Mr. Parker said,” T’Challa begins. “So that’s one. Two, I like both Mr. Parker and Mr. Stark. Three, I think that Stark is an important figure as far as heroes go, and he not only agrees with accountability but inspires it in others. So four, he’s continuing my father’s work, and Wakanda should be happy that I’m helping him. I know there were some grumblings about the other Avengers.” He stops abruptly, not wanting to touch the next point.

“And five?” Teela insists.

“Five,” T’Challa acquiesces. “Besides the fact that he sent over the technology to make Barnes better proving that Stark only needed time to come to terms with the situation and be able to act rationally, the good he does in the world, how brilliant, how important, and how dangerous, I can’t help but concentrate on two sentences: I knew he was there, and I abandoned him; he knew who was here, and he protected me.”

Teela puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Then today I found out that it’s not just the embarrassment or the gratitude, it’s the regret too,” T’Challa explains. “Because I let myself be controlled by the first two and never talked to him. Never knew him. I hoped I had become better than that. Apparently not.”

“There’s no proof he’s dead,” Teela says quietly. She’s not one for meaningless reassurances. “Help get him back, and do better.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Good afternoon,” T’Challa greets.

“Good afternoon,” Rogers answers. “Is there a problem?”

“There is,” T’Challa replies. After all, when Rogers left the second time with Barnes more than a year ago, they established to use the phone only in emergencies. “We are in contact with the authorities, but I wanted to tell you since you have a personal connection with the organization. Mr. Stark has been kidnapped by HYDRA.” 

T’Challa announcement is followed by a long silence. He winces. There is no good way he could have delivered that news. He hears a familiar voice in the background asking Rogers what is wrong. It’s Barnes. He winces again.

“Not only with the organization,” Rogers finally says. His voice is rough. “You said I have a connection with HYDRA. That’s not my only connection. Tony is my friend.”

T’Challa doesn’t say anything, though he certainly thinks it.

“What the hell is going on?” Barnes’ voice comes across clearly, a sign that he’s shouting.

“The investigation is only beginning, but I’ll keep you up to date,” T’Challa says. “I ask of you not to—”

Rogers interrupts. “We have to search HYDRA bases.”

“I ask of you not to do that,” T’Challa finishes. “It is yet premature.”

“Your Majesty, I know you don’t approve of the way I handled the whole… Tony is my friend. I may not have… He’s my friend, and if he is captured…” Rogers trails off, and T’Challa feels a cold shiver down his spine. Even if T’Challa himself has thought it if Rogers says anything about the danger Stark poses for them all… “They can’t take any more of my friends.” Ah.

“They what?!” Barnes shouted.

“I see,” T’Challa says. “But I will reiterate my request. The authorities are busy with Mr. Stark’s case. They do not need the added complication of you drawing attention to yourself, especially when you might seem the immediate danger. And that is just you. If you bring your friends, I guarantee you would become the first priority.”

“You’ll keep me posted?” Rogers asks.

“I will,” T’Challa answers, and thinks that Rogers will come anyway.

*

In the end, the United States authorities gave the ex-Avengers immunity from prosecution inside the country borders if they helped with the search. They didn’t make a difference. It’s been almost four months since Stark had been kidnapped and they aren’t any closer to him. Now he is in a meeting with most of the Avengers and Everett Ross about somehow obtaining permission to get at the bases located outside the country.

T’Challa exchanges looks with Teela. He’s only here because he was the one who declared Tony Stark missing in the first place, but he, Teela, and Peter discussed this already. None of them agree. The last thing this search needs is Rogers trampling over the Accords when the UN, with Stark’s support, worked so hard on them. They might have to interfere if Rogers and his team manage to convince Ross.

“If he turns…” Wilson says timidly. “If it he starts to make weapons for them then he could be dangerous.”

Rogers looks down and keeps quiet.

“Then I trust you to stop him,” Ross replies. “Stop him like you stopped Sergeant Barnes.”

T’Challa doesn’t know if Ross’ is being sarcastic or not, but Peter coughs, and T’Challa feels a grin creeping up. He looks at Teela and she’s smirking, so he watches Rogers instead. That isn’t a good choice either because the expression on Rogers’ face is tough to describe as anything else besides hilarious.

Ross’ PA hurries into the room. “Secretary Ross, you’ve got to see this.” He then turns on the TV in the conference room.

On screen, Christine Everhart looks like she’s not having a good day. “—rorist organization named HYDRA is reportedly keeping Tony Stark prisoner.”  Not good. “They wanted to have a live conversation with us via StarkVid to prove it. As our policy states that all video must be screened before we release it, if only to be able to properly warn our viewers as to the content, we instead decided not to—”

Everhart is replaced for one second with several frames of a white room, five men in masks, and one blank-eyed Tony Stark sitting at a table typing something on a wireless keyboard.

T’Challa signals to Teela to have it traced.

“Get it back.” Everhart is again visible, though she doesn’t seem aware. “Tony Stark deserves some _fucking_ respect! Get – it – back.”

“He’s Tony _fucking_ Stark!” someone yells back. “We’re doing everything we can!”

“Do better!” Everhart snaps back. She tilts her hair in the manner of people everywhere that are wearing earpieces. Her eyes focus on the camera, Everhart probably having been made aware she’s live. 

“We’re losing it!” someone hollers.

Everhart’s nostrils flare as she lifts her chin, and says through clenched teeth, “Viewer discretion is advised.”

The image holds her defiant glare for a second more before it flickers back to the white room.

“The Tony fucking Stark dilemma,” Rhodes murmurs sadly.

Stark is in shackles. Heavy looking manacles around his hands and feet that seem bolted both to the floor and to the metal table. T’Challa can spy a belly chain and suddenly sees it as a system that is designed for Stark not to have more than fifteen inches of space to move either left or right. Stark is already typing cramped due to his chain pulling in both directions.

There are five people wearing masks in the room with him. Four are heavily armed and maintain their distance. The fifth stands right behind Stark pointing a gun down at his head.

And that’s not the most heartbreaking aspect. Stark—looking younger, though not by much, five years, maybe ten at most—is gone. His absent eyes do not seem to register anything, his movements are mechanic, and his normally expressive face is blank.

A crack is heard in the conference room and everybody finches. It’s Peter. He broke his armrest without seemingly realizing it. Rogers gets a tragically sympathetic expression on his face, and he puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. It makes Peter jump. He turns toward Rogers, but his own expression is not of gratitude.

“Hands off,” Peter growls. He keeps eye contact with Rogers for a second, while he takes his hand back, then as if drawn against Peter’s will, Peter’s eyes glue to the screen. Rogers is ignored and, possibly, forgotten in the face of Peter’s mentor being… lost and imprisoned.

“As you can see HYDRA has your hero!” the fifth man declares. “Our Mechanic.”

To T’Challa’s surprise, it’s Barnes who mutters fiercely, “No, you don’t.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Stark’s image. T’Challa doesn’t want to be in his head right now.

“Bucky,” Rogers pleads quietly.

A look around the room and the reason for it becomes clear: Rhodes is glaring.

Barnes shakes his head.

“Bucky, I know that—” Rogers begins in a whisper.

“Listen!” Bucky explodes loudly interrupting Rogers. “You don’t keep a gun on a man you control. You don’t guard him. You don’t—what the hell is that? He can barely move.” He finally turns to Rogers. “I went on missions. That’s how much they trusted their brainwashing. Out in the world, by myself… missions, Steve.”

“They had you for years,” Rogers tells him.

Barnes simply shakes his head in a strong denial.

“It is possible it is more than that,” Teela says, and seeks permission to continue from T’Challa. He nods, and she continues, “Mr. Stark was never saved. Yes, he had help, but as far as our records indicate… He has saved himself, every time. That might have given him other coping mechanisms than Mr. Barnes, ones that made him more instinctively dependent on himself than other people or organizations. HYDRA has mostly worked on soldiers, or agents, that have a solidly-build sense of belonging, or, at least, of hierarchy. Mr. Stark would be the opposite of that.”

The fifth man continues to elaborate on the world’s loss and HYDRA’s gain. It’s impossible to get any idea of where it is. There are no windows and no other indicators. All they can do until something changes—hopefully, that will come in the form of Ochieng and Chaushiku managing to trace back the hack, and not HYDRA shooting Stark—is throw theories around.

“Why are they even making the video? Just to instill panic? Perhaps to buy some time to turn him? Why? We aren’t any closer to finding him.” Romanoff shakes her head slightly. “It’s possible they want us to reach the same conclusion about his lack of cooperation and go in with our guards down,” she suggests solemnly. “Stark’s more the type to auto destruct.”

“Well, he has not so far, has he?” Vision inquires. “I think there might be a measure of underestimation here.”

“You did not see him how he was before he built the last version of the reactor,” Romanoff says simply. “Or even before he was Iron Man for that matter.”

“No. I did not see him while he was dying and neither did you have the opportunity to observe him before he was Iron Man, but I did see him some three attempts on his life later. And soon after that,” Vision replies coolly. He is much better at keeping his composure than all the rest of them. “Is that not a direct contradiction of your estimations?”

Suddenly, Rhodes jerks in his seat. “Is he smiling?”

It’s a small thing, not so easily seen, but… “It does appear so,” T’Challa says.

“Why wo—” With a violent motion, Stark throws his keyboard somewhere beyond the camera, interrupting Barnes, and reducing the conference room to a terse silence. Choking could be heard, and a body falling. A sixth man then, standing behind the camera. “Stark got him in the neck. Adam’s apple, possibly. The man’s not dead, but he doesn’t have long,” Barnes reports absently.

Nobody comments on that because on the screen Stark leans back while giving a violent tug at the table bolt. The fifth man shoots, but it’s too little too late. He, at most, manages to get a thigh, but Stark has already spread his legs so most probably he hit the chair. Before T’Challa can blink, Stark is in possession of a gun, and both bolts are a thing of the past. He’s still chained, but the balance of power has suddenly shifted.

T’Challa can practically feel the masked men’s fear as they try their best to shoot Stark. It should be an easy task. They are four to his one, they have the distance working for them, and they aren’t chained. But it doesn’t seem to make a difference once Stark has a weapon in his possession. He moves unpredictably forward, towards the camera, not towards the right side where a metallic door can be seen and they think he’ll be, so their shots go wide. It takes two seconds and one roll. Everybody’s dead, with neat little red holes decorating the center of their foreheads, and Stark is unharmed.

The first bullet didn’t hit him.

However, Stark does appear to be injured some. His hands and feet have thick red lines where the metal had dug in unforgivably into his skin. They can see them as Stark hurriedly gets himself loose. He’s probably waiting for more HYDRA agents.

“King T’Challa, they are in this city,” Teela says.

And no sooner has T’Challa turned to her in surprise and begins to rise than he hears an explosion both on the screen and in real life. He moves toward a window and he can see smoke billowing from an innocuous four-story building. T’Challa swings toward the screen where Stark’s smile widens a fraction, before slipping out the door. Another, much larger explosion comes soon after.

“Did Tony just…” Peter trails off.

“—blow himself up?” Rhodes finishes. “Not likely.”

“He had about ten seconds,” Barnes says, his own small smile playing on his lips.

“Let us see,” T’Challa throws over his shoulder as he exits the room. He is of the same mind as Rhodey and thinks Stark escaped, because he was expecting those explosions—there was no doubt about it in T’Challa’s mind. But he also thinks that Stark won’t be there anymore.

Five hours later, T’Challa’s expectations are confirmed.

*

The first act T’Challa thinks can be attributed to Stark is a castle in France blowing up. HYDRA presence is discovered, as well as the bodies of close to two hundred agents. Then another castle explodes in Denmark. Then a farm in Iowa. A hotel in Russia. A mansion in Brazil. All HYDRA locations, all away from civilization.

Two months later, a villa in Zimbabwe, that is located in the city, breaks the pattern. When Okoye brings T’Challa the report, he’s almost afraid to read it. To his complete amazement, however, the only thing that happened to the base was the overnight appearance of a huge arrow pointing at the grounds, declaring, ‘HYDRA is here.’ There are two dozen or so tranquilized HYDRA agents found at the base of the sign. They must’ve wanted to take it down, or simply leave, only to be picked off one by one. By the time the police arrived, there are more than a hundred people trapped in the house hiding from unseen attackers. All are HYDRA.

This time T’Challa knows for certain it is Stark’s work: the arrow has sensor triggered tranq guns that can be handled from afar. The authorities in Zimbabwe must know it too, but the only thing that appears in the newspapers is the temporary shutdown of the villa for tourists. Apparently, there was a gas leak. The signs were nothing but creative graffiti.

And Wakanda’s symbol is the dove.

Stark is doing what he said he wouldn’t do: going into sovereign countries without invitation in his hunt for HYDRA bases. It’s unclear if he remembers if he signed the Accords or not. At least, he’s not hurting civilians.

Zimbabwe is the moment when Stark stops killing, though coincidentally, or not, it’s also the first place that’s within a city. But Stark doesn’t stop hunting. For the next few months, there are HYDRA Commanders trapped in elevators, in cars, in bathrooms, in trains, in cable cars, even in a bank vault once. The authorities receive the whereabouts and the damning information. Officially, nobody knows who does it. Unofficially, that fact that no one can find out is pretty telling. 

T’Challa wants to ask Peter if Stark has contacted Peter or not, but T’Challa always hesitates. Does he really want to know? No, he doesn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

T’Challa is at the UN on an unrelated matter when the Stark resurfaces. He just appears. And T’Challa means that literally. The session is on lunch break, he’s in a restaurant, currently waiting for his companion—a representative with whom T’Challa has had issues ever since the Accords and whom T’Challa is trying to suss out—when Stark shows up instead.

“MayI?” Stark asks, gesturing to the free seat. He looks well. No trace of that blank person T’Challa saw in the video five months before, but not as expressive as Stark was known to be. “After all, we didn’t get to have that meeting.”

The meeting T’Challa invoked when asked to provide a reason for believing Stark missing.

“Of course,” T’Challa says. “I have someone set to meet me, but that does not mean that I cannot talk.”

“You might as well order.” Stark smiles slightly. “The person you were supposed to meet with is having difficulties getting out of the bathroom.”

T’Challa nods carefully; it seems like Stark’s thing. “I do hope they find a way out.”

“The police would probably know how,” Stark replies. “After all, they are suddenly very interested.”

That answers T’Challa’s question about the representative’s motives. Still. “Do you remember enough to know what you are doing?”

Stark blinks, face becoming blank for a second. Whatever HYDRA did to him is still there, he just got better at hiding it. The smile flickers back on, and the mask is once again functional. “That’s a bit of a loaded question, isn’t it?”

“It is one I now see I should have perhaps phrased differently, but the answer is still important,” T’Challa says gently.

“Victory…” Stark falters, his eyes are studying T’Challa intently. “Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.”

T’Challa very carefully keeps his face straight.

“I did not mean to upset you.” Stark frowns. “Your father’s words echoed as true, and I’ve been doing my best to listen to them, even extending that to all lives from the moment I could. He was a wise man.”

“He was,” T’Challa agrees. Then he hurries to change the subject. “I am sorry—the moment you could?”

“I was angry,” Stark says calmly, but his eyes tell another tale. He is either using the past tense wrong, or he was _enraged_.

“The police are searching for you,” T’Challa warns. He should be more sensitive, but the mention of his father still rankles. “They want you to give them answers for the dead civilians your escape caused.”

“I don’t think I knew they kept me in a city.” Stark is devoid of any expression again. “Then there’s the possibility that I was beyond caring.” He shrugs, and the mask is back on. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Bits and pieces from my time as Stark, and even less from my turn as the Mechanic,” Stark offers. “Very few are good memories, so the rest I’m certain I don’t want to remember.”

T’Challa wants to close his eyes and take a moment. Apparently, his second attempt at knowing Stark doesn’t leave T’Challa any less guilty. He doesn’t shut them, though, as he doesn’t know how Stark would interpret it.

“I owe you an apology,” T’Challa starts, but he’s interrupted.

“Don’t.” It’s like the mask is tiring, or ill-fitting, Stark sheds it so often. “I can’t accept it for things I don’t remember.”

“Very well, but that leaves our discussion today.”

“What about it?” Stark cocks his head, not understanding.

“The way I addressed you—” T’Challa is interrupted again.

“Let’s not,” Stark says. “I’m not doing too great at that myself.” He smiles slightly. “But the internet tells me I should.”

“I haven’t often had the opportunity to hear you talk in person, but yes, especially in formal settings, I have known you to be proficient.”

“How interesting, can you tell me more?”

“I listened to you speak in front of the UN,” T’Challa answers confusedly.  “You offended the people you wanted to, praised no one though most felt differently, and got what you wanted.”

“I didn’t mean that, but that’s… great,” Stark says with raised eyebrows. “I had a fan.” He smirks, at ease and full of charm. It lasts only for a few seconds before he’s blank again as if he had been surprised by the teasing remark just as much as T’Challa had. “I meant how come we had a meeting that I haven’t shown up to when we rarely talk.”

T’Challa hesitates, not knowing how much to say. “The person you had the meeting with was Spider-Man,” he begins slowly. “You were very close to him, so close that he knew your schedule, but he was unable to tell the police you were missing since his identity is unknown and so is your mentorship. He came to me since I owe you from a series of incidents for which I was about to apologize.” T’Challa does his best to respect Stark’s wish to not remember, keep Peter’s identity a secret, and tell the story.

“That sounds unnecessarily complicated,” Stark says dryly. He exhales. “Does the name Peter mean anything to you?”

T’Challa’s eyes pin Stark down. “Yes.”

Didn’t Stark just say that he doesn’t remember anything? No. Bits and pieces, he said. Can Peter’s identity be among them? Maybe.

“Can you tell your Peter ‘thank you,’ from me?” Stark asks easily.

“Certainly.” T’Challa nods. “You should contact Spider-Man to tell him you’re fine.”

“But _can_ I?”

“I think so.”

There’s tension between them now whose origin doesn’t know T’Challa and he doesn’t know how to dispel.

“How do you tell someone you’re not who you were?” Stark leans back. His face is not blank, but he has a neutral expression that now seems to fit him naturally. There’s no sign of that doomed bleakness, but no sign of a smirk either.  T’Challa is starting to get what Stark means. “It’s worse than that. You don’t want to be who you were. I mean, besides not remembering, I don’t want to go back to the Tony Stark before the kidnapping, because it happened and it changed me.”

“You can’t turn back time,” T’Challa adds, agreeing despite knowing that his experience was different. Or was it? He doesn’t act like the same T’Challa, the one he was before his father’s death. He can’t, he doesn’t even remember being him.

What about forgetting? His father and/or his death. Again, T’Challa can’t. He understands, though, that this is where their experiences truly differ. Where T’Challa would forget a dear person, Stark—Tony forgot tortures. He has proven he remembers some people, and maybe his memory could come back when he’s ready for it. For now, T’Challa’s mind is made: it’s not his place to push.

“If you wanted, I could be the one to try to explain to him—the change,” T’Challa volunteered. “Or maybe that you need time and space, and that you’ll explain when you got back.” He hesitates, and adds quietly, “I cannot say I wouldn’t have done some things differently, but I also didn’t experience what you did. However, if there’s one thing I completely understand is the unwillingness to change back.”

“I… appreciate that. And the latter, for Spider-Man,” Tony says after a few moments of thought.  He offers T’Challa a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

T’Challa can only nod, unable to keep his eyes off that smile.

It’s beautiful. Tony’s beautiful. And T’Challa has a moment of realization: how come he never realized that Tony was attractive? It’s more than that, though, it’s… Tony’s a survivor. He has a spine of vibranium, and a mind so sharp it makes others bleed that they don’t even realize it.Even after being through the ringer, even after losing his memories, and even after having odds against him, Tony can still smile. All of Tony is gorgeous.  

T’Challa blinks, pushing that thought away with all his might. Fine, he hasn’t realized that he was very taken with Tony…Stark—Tony. This is not the time for it though.

Tony opens his mouth and says, “Now, about the invasion—”

With an almost audible sound of screeching breaks, T’Challa changes focus, and his eyes narrow. “Beg your pardon?”

“You… I didn’t—Right, because we rarely talk. And I thought that was the reason for us seeing each other, but there was no meeting.” Tony nods. “Well, and it was a long way still. I would have probably contacted you soon.”

T’Challa decides to wait him out.

“We’re about to be invaded by an army from space commanded by a very powerful being who wants to offer our early demise to his lady love, Mistress Death,” Tony announces.

And T’Challa wants to believe him, but he also wants to have Tony tested for drugs.

“Right,” T’Challa answers non-committedly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask anything of you without first offering proof,” Tony says, and that oddly calms T’Challa. “This is a warning that the news might come out in the next year and a half, two years at most.”

Tony seems so certain, and T’Challa, quietly, begins to worry.

“I’ve got to go,” Tony says. “It’s been informative.”

T’Challa nods, and replies, “Mr. Stark. Tony?” As soon as Tony gives permission, T’Challa adds, “Tony, you’re not alone. Don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

“Thank you, Kin—”

“T’Challa, please.”

“Thanks, T’Challa.”

With that, and a few seconds more of eye contact, Tony leaves. T’Challa leans back in his seat. What has just happened? 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony Stark comes back three months after he met with T’Challa, eight months after the footage of his kidnapping aired, and one year after his kidnapping. It becomes apparent to everyone that Tony’s memory is spotty, and to T’Challa that Tony is fine with that. Tony’s smirk is sturdier than it was, but T’Challa doesn’t know if it’s because of the differences in context, because Tony got better at keeping it on, or because it’s less of a mask.

There’s no evidence against Tony for the explosions, except that first one, and, as for the rest of the HYDRA bases and agents—well, an absence of proof is not proof. And while there are voices that say the D.A. should decline to prosecute for the civilian deaths when Tony’s made his escape until the public’s impression of Tony is less sympathetic, the D.A. is, surprisingly, a Captain America fan still. To him, Tony has never been sympathetic. So the trial starts, Tony speaks in his defense, confesses a probability, and the jury declares him not guilty. He cannot be prosecuted again for those deaths.

From what T’Challa sees, Tony’s not happy, he’s not sad, he just is, and T’Challa wonders if Tony feels numb. Lost, maybe. It’s only later that T’Challa considers that Tony had a year to come to terms with what happened. Tony is what acceptance looks like.

*

In the middle of everyone freaking out about Tony’s disappearance two days after the trial, T’Challa’s phone vibrates. It’s an unfamiliar number, but not hidden. They’re on a break so T’Challa exchanges looks with Teela as he debates taking the call outside. But that would mean that he’s in full view of the cameras in the hallway and he doesn’t want that either. He finally answers it, putting a bit of distance both between him and the other occupants of the meeting room and a smaller one between himself and the phone. 

“Um…” It’s Tony’s voice. “Help?”

T’Challa brings the phone immediately to his ear. “How may I help you?”

“I need to go somewhere I am welcome, to lay low for a bit.”

Can T’Challa trust Tony in Wakanda? The easy answer is that T’Challa would have to say yes no matter Tony’s level of trust because T’Challa already invited murderers into the country and Tony protected him from repercussions, even when those same murderers had made attempts onhis life. The next easy answer is that T’Challa trusts Tony a lot more than any of the others. But those answers are only compared to T’Challa’s previous behavior, and he’s not sure if his actions in a period of intense emotional distress should be reason enough.

So.

Does T’Challa trust Tony? T’Challa doesn’t know. He can’t even trust Tony to behave in a certain manner or like he used to, unpredictable such as it was because he freely admits that he’s changed.

Maybe the question shouldn’t be so much about trust, but about the request. Tony, a person who has suffered at the hands of the world, asks T’Challa for help. And T’Challa feels like the humane thing here is to grant Tony’s request.

But is Tony dangerous? Yes. Is he dangerous for Wakanda? He can be. Would his retaliation against Wakanda for refusing him entry be impossible to control? It’s unclear, but it’s possible that it wouldn’t.

Does T’Challa need to be on good terms with Tony? T’Challa remembers scoffing that two men can get more done than a hundred, and his father reply, ‘Unless you need to move a piano.’ There’s this niggling feeling that T’Challa has had ever since Tony told him about the invasion. It could be fabricated for exactly this purpose, but T’Challa believes that a piano will have to be moved soon and that alienating Tony at this time would be a bad idea.  

Can Tony go somewhere else? Of course, he can. Besides the fact that T’Challa has all sorts of favors to collect from other Heads of State, the request comes from Tony fucking Stark.

In conclusion, it’s a risk. There is no doubt about that. But it’s one that T’Challa will take.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” T’Challa says simply, causing Tony’s near-silent indrawn breath.

There are several seconds of silence until Tony speaks. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” T’Challa says, moving farther away from the Avengers and keeping his voice low. He ignores Teela suspicious look. “Are you able to find your own way there?”

Another moment of silence and T’Challa is content to wait Tony out.

“It’s better if I don’t,” Tony confesses, and T’Challa can hear a smile in his voice.

“As you wish,” T’Challa replies with his own slight smile. “Where are you?”

“Behind you.”

T’Challa resists the instinct to look though he strongly feels the presence of the window. “Can you find your way to the Ha—plane?”

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Tony declares slowly as if tasting the words and T’Challa can imagine the smile turning into an inviting smirk. “The Hawk is _gorgeous_.”

And T’Challa realizes three things: that he’s proud of his country achievements; that Tony should always be impressed with them; and the T’Challa has better control than he previously thought. “I am glad he rises to your expectations.” But there’s a limit.

“…Was that a pun?”

“I apologize,” T’Challa says quickly. “It wasn’t consciously done.”

Tony chokes.

“Sir,” the same PA says as he enters the meeting. T’Challa should really find out his name. “We found Mr. Stark.” In an uncomfortable repeat of last time, the PA turns on the television.

“Thank you, Mark,” Ross says absently.

Mark; the PA’s name is Mark.

“What the hell?” Ross’ exclamation makes T’Challa focus on the screen.

“What’s going on?” Rogers asks worriedly.

On the screen there an image on Tony, doubled over, his shoulders shaking.

“It appears…” Mark hesitates. “It appears he’s laughing, sir.”

T’Challa’s phone is at his ear immediately. “It wasn’t that funny,” he complains and, because he’s losing this argument, he hurriedly changes the subject. “In other news, you’ve been spotted.” With that, T’Challa has now the attention of most of the room’s occupants. “We’ll see each other as discussed. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” Tony says between deep breaths meant to get him under control. He fails, and the last thing T’Challa hears is Tony’s loud laugh. It’s a good sound.

Peter looks at him hopefully, the Spider-Man costume’s lenses expanding as Peter focuses on T’Challa, but T’Challa shakes his head. Tony hasn’t changed his mind yet. Peter breaths in, and then nods.

“Why would that make Mr. Stark laugh?” Vision asks, frowning.

“No,” T’Challa decides. “I am not discussing that.”

Romanoff has a pensive look on her face, but Barton rolls his eyes.

“Steve?” Wilson asks, with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Rogers claims, while Barnes anticipates Wilson’s question and shakes his head.

“I do not think this meeting is necessary anymore,” T’Challa observes, as he puts his phone away. “Are we done?”

“I would appreciate it if you’d let us know next time when your knowledge makes the meeting superfluous,” Ross says grumpily.

T’Challa is not remorseful. “I was not aware of his location when this meeting started, and I would have let you know once the call was finished.”

“When will you see each other?” Romanoff asks being purposefully impertinent.

“If I thought that was, even remotely, your business, you would have an answer,” T’Challa responds sunnily. “As things stand, however, you will have to live with that curiosity.”

“It’s her business. She’s his teammate and friend,” Rogers says.

T’Challa raises an eyebrow. “Is she?”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room.

Rogers opens his mouth and closes it. “Tell him that we miss him,” he finally says. “And that Wanda’s in treatment, so Tony was right about that.”

“You do realize that just because he talks to me, that does not mean he remembers more than he did at his trial,” T’Challa retorts coldly.

“It’s convenient that he has amnesia when he has charges brought against him,” Barton says with a cold smirk. “I bet he remembers everything.”

Shrugging, Barnes says, “I bet you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Barton freezes. He blinks, the smirk falling off his lips. “Yeah, probably.” He won’t meet anybody’s eyes.

That’s T’Challa’s queue. “Good afternoon, everyone.” He nods as he stands.

*

“Everything all right?” Tony asks, stepping out of the shadows.

“Yes,” T’Challa answers with a smile.

Teela barely spares Tony a glance as she checks the perimeter, a clear sign that she knew he was here, and Tony does about as much to acknowledge her though he adds a nod. Nareema, taking that as her cue, steps forward to pat down Tony and, to no one’s surprise, finds two guns, a knife, and a garrote. At T’Challa’s signal, she hands them back to Tony.

“That’s different,” Tony notes, but he makes the weapons disappear quickly.

“I don’t think anyone wants to see you get creative,”Teela comments.

T’Challa adds, “And we want you to be comfortable.”

“Fair enough,” Tony says, and shrugs.

“Spider-Man wants to see you,” T’Challa says. “And Rogers has some messages he’d like me to pass along.”

Tony’s expression contorts as if he smelled something unpleasant. “Are they messages I would like to hear?”

“I have no idea,” T’Challa says regretfully.

“Shall we?” Tony asks, gesturing to the Hawk, managing to buy himself some time.

T’Challa, who doesn’t begrudge Tony the few minutes he wins, smiles, and says, “Of course.”

Their seats are away from the closest Doras, clearly being afforded privacy.

“I can remember _some_ things,” Tony says out of nowhere. “Mostly my memories are tied to stupid stuff. I heard a cricket and remembered that ant guy, or I killed a fly and, as it was falling, I remembered Rhodey. But if I want to, if I think about a person, the details come back. That’s how I remembered who Spider-Man is.”

T’Challa’s nod is a little shaky. Even though T’Challa successfully hid a wince, he still felt knocked over by both Tony’s words, and Tony’s trust. T’Challa is scared to do the wrong thing here. He has some training in these things, but whenever he has to deal with someone he personally respects or cares about, the objectivity that the training preaches goes out the window and in comes the fear. 

“I can deal with memories when I get reminded sparingly,” Tony says. “I can handle that.”

It… makes sense.

“But not when you think about it?” T’Challa asks, trying to get a better handle on how this might go for Tony.

“Yeah. That’s exactly it,” Tony says. “I feel like I’m forcing something that I’m not sure I even want.”

“There’s no hurry.” T’Challa hesitates. “You know, there are a lot of therapists in Wakanda that can help you reach a decision.”

Tony studies him, and T’Challa, safe in his knowledge that his statements are completely truthful, doesn’t flinch.

The Hawk takes off.

“I do have some time,” Tony says, keeping eye contact.

“It’s your decision,” T’Challa reminds him. “If you chose to take me up on it, let Nareema know—she’s the one with the tattooed lizard bracelet on her upper arm—and she’ll find you someone to talk to about finding a therapist that fits.” He feels the need to add, “It wouldn’t be ethical for me to get involved as the King and as your… acquaintance.”

“Friend?” Tony asks with a soft smile.

“I’d like to be one,” T’Challa confesses.

“It’s fine by me.” Tony shrugs.

“Friends then,” T’Challa says, although he knows there’s more than that. “As your future therapist’s superior and your friend it would be improper for me to interfere in any way.”

Tony nods and takes a deep breath. “Tell me the messages?”

T’Challa decides that it is not the moment to question Tony, so T’Challa hopes that Tony’s sure and answers, “Rogers said that they miss you and that Ms. Maximoff is in therapy. Apparently, you were right about that.”

“She is?” Tony asks. He has clearly waived off the first part of the message. “She’d never agree to that. What did she do?”

“It’s true that it wasn’t voluntary,”T’Challa admits easily. “She had to undergo an evaluation, which she failed, and it was her choice to continue therapy in order to be, someday, reunited with the team. By all accounts, she sees it differently now.”

“What did she do?” Tony insists.

“The Secret Avengers took it upon themselves to interfere with a hostage situation in Australia,” T’Challa began. “One of the hostages was a gun manufacturer, and she identified with the hostage-takers. Six police officers landed in the hospital.”

Tony frowns.

“She got a lawyer. It was filed under ‘emotional distress,’ or ‘psychotic break.’I don’t remember, I apologize,” T’Challa says ruefully. “As per the trauma provision we made to the Accords, she was kept out of jail.”

“A loop,” Tony notes. “But hey, at least one of them signed the Accords.”

If Ms. Maximoff had been given an evaluation when she had accidentally killed those people in Lagos—among them T’Challa’s own countrymen—she would have been sent to training, she’d have been benched, and, when she was ready to come back, she would have to pass a psychological evaluation. Like this, she gets only the psychological help, six officers have been injured, and her control isn’t tested in any way.

In trying to protect people who are disadvantaged, sometimes other people sneak in. Some, like Ms. Maximoff, do need it, even if preferably they would be in another bracket. But in talking about stretching things for their benefit, there are other laws that apply in even more incredible situations.

“Speaking of loops…” T’Challa trails off.

“I was wondering why they were still in the U.S.”

“It’s a controversial decision made by the D.A.,” T’Challa says, and nods when Tony rolls his eyes. “Apparently, he views the Secret Avengers as indispensable to the process of… justice, claiming the search for you and the instinctual reach to them by the US authorities as his reason. Even though, he’s the one who originally asked for their help. There are voices that say you saved yourself and their impact was minimal, so things are rather tense at the moment.”

“And the D.A.’s the one who is directly responsible for me being free,” Tony freely agrees. “These loops are incredibly cyclic.”

T’Challa nods.

*

Tony and Shuri meet two days later. It is only by chance that T’Challa happened to be there. He feels like he should really have some sort of fire extinguishing device, a shield of some sort, or both. Their first impression on each other is not a good one. Shuri leaves fuming, and Tony is again blank. They haven’t said a word.

This happens a few times.

T’Challa, because he’s _so_ lucky, is there when they actually speak to each other. Arguably, he thinks as he sees his sister open her mouth, opening a line of communication is a good sign. But he’s just glad he’s now in possession of a foam producing spray. Chaushiku and Ochieng, who adore Tony, have been on Chemical Development’s ass since he requested it. His mother told him he was being overdramatic, but took a canister for herself because, she said, it was so useful. T’Challa is onto her.

“Are you going to stay here long?” Shuri asks, making T’Challa clutch his spray. “Sir.”

Tony doesn’t blink. “Do you hate me because I’m called an American Superhero, or because I’m me?”  He stops. Smirks. “Princess.”

“Both,” Shuri says and scoffs.

“I don’t remember how to be either,” Tony shoots back. “So your hatred is either misplaced or you weren’t honest just now.”

Shuri growls and moves towards Tony. His face becomes blank. And T’Challa can’t take it, and, since he’s still clutching the spray, he brings it up.

It’s really interesting how such a small canister can produce such a big quantity of foam.

Then the strangest thing happens. Shuri tries to protect Tony by jumping in the path of the spray, and he tries to do the same. They collide and end up doing this sort of awkward dance, in which they push and pull at each other. Tony is still blank, making T’Challa wince—it wasn’t his best idea—and Shuri is snarling. They are the grumpiest saviors T’Challa has ever seen. The dance continues as T’Challa is stuck frowning, holding his, now empty, spray, and generally not having any idea if he should interfere or not.

“I don’t know any of you,”Ramonda comments dryly and pushes the button on the small canister.

That’s when the dance changes because T’Challa is in a much better position than the both of them to step into the path of the spray. It isn’t a rational decision. He can’t help it. And Shuri and Tony, realizing the harmlessness of the foam and reaching some sort of agreement, move at the same time to tug T’Challa towards them. They may all end up practically swimming in the stuff, there may or may not be a half hour foam fight in which the Doras join, but the improved relationship between Shuri and Tony is the important one here. Besides the half an hour of innocent, soul-cleansing, fun that T’Challa didn’t even know he needed, of course.

*

T’Challa had just sat down to read some reports, about a month later, when the call came.

“Good afternoon, Chieftain T’Challa. I apologize for disturbing you,”Zorex greets as they appear on the vid function of the bead. They are one of Panther Tribe’s best therapists, and the best in Wakanda when it comes to dealing with PTSD coming from a position of responsibility. “According to Nareema, you are the one among us who is closest to Anthony Stark.”

That doesn’t sound like it’s going to be followed by good news. Nonetheless, T’Challa doesn’t hesitate, “I am.”

“Without breaching confidentiality, I express my concern as to his welfare after today’s session,” Zorex says neutrally.

It’s custom not to let people on their own after bad sessions, and T’Challa knew a lot of people that have received such calls over the years, but he’s never been in this position himself.

“I understand,” T’Challa replies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Thank you for being receptive, Chieftain,” Zorex says. “I wish you a good afternoon.”

“Have a lovely afternoon too,” T’Challa says, and with a nod ends the call. Now, to find Tony. “Teela,” he calls, making Teela raise her head. “Where’s Tony?”

If Teela finds the question odd she doesn’t show it.

*

T’Challa knocks. “Can I come in?” he calls.

Silence. “Yes,” finally comes Tony’s answer.

Opening the door, T’Challa sees Tony pacing agitatedly. “Do you mind if I join you?” T’Challa asks. 

Tony frowns. “No. Why?” T’Challa opens his mouth, but Tony cuts him off, “It’s that thing Zorex warned me about, isn’t it? With the calls?” T’Challa nods, and Tony continues. “I didn’t know they were going to call you. You can ignore it. I’m sure you have more important things to worry about.”

“If you don’t want me here, then I won’t stay here. However,” T’Challa stresses, “if your decision is based on my needing to be somewhere else, I can assure you it’s not necessary. I do have a few hours set aside for myself daily and I’d rather spend them with you. Wakanda prizes mental health just as much as physical one.”

“I’m starting to get that, yeah.”

“There no other place I need to be right now.” T’Challa repeats his question, “So, do you mind if I join you?”

Tony studies him. “Pretty arrogant of me to assume that you’ll leave your country for my sake,” he says, a throw-away line that T’Challa feels has a lot more weight than it appears.

“I take it as a compliment,” T’Challa says slowly and clearly. “It assumes that I’m inherently such a good person that I’d sacrifice a few hours of my tight schedule because I think you might be in need of help.”

“I am in need of help and I’m getting that help at no cost,” Tony hurled the compliments like accusations. “You welcomed me in your country, your home, made it possible for me to go to therapy, all at no cost to myself. You’re either a very good person, or you want something from me.”

“Neither,” T’Challa answers honestly. “But you won’t believe either.”

“All the same, I think that you’ve done enough, and any more would just be taking advantage.”

“It’s your choice,” T’Challa says easily. “I’m just trying to offer support to a friend.”

Tony closes his eyes and just breathes for a couple of seconds.

“Tony, it’s fine,” T’Challa says. “I can leave.”

“No, stay. I was just… I don’t know why I was… I don’t know why the fuck I argued with you. I’m angry. And… Are you sure you wouldn’t be better off outside the range of fire? It’s not like you deserve it. I just…” Tony lets out a breath. “Help?”

“Here is what we could do,” T’Challa says, trying for an upbeat tone. “I could sit down. Read my reports. You continue with what you were doing. When and if you decide to talk, about anything, I’ll be here. How’s that sound?”

“Okay,” Tony says and nods. “Yeah, that sounds good. Sorry?” He shakes his head. “I’m a mess. Sorry.”

T’Challa closes the door but doesn’t go far. He takes a step forward, and then another one to the right where the mats are placed on the entirety on the wall. T’Challa doesn’t sit right next to the door, not wanting Tony to feel trapped, but T’Challa doesn’t want him to feel crowded either.

“Your behavior doesn’t require an apology, Tony,” T’Challa says, and looks up at him. He feels like it’s important for Tony to know that T’Challa is truthful. It would be better if there was a way for Tony to be sure of T’Challa’s honesty, but there isn’t.

Helplessness—it’s an awful feeling. T’Challa never does well with it. So, after Tony nods and resumes pacing, T’Challa goes back to his reports.

Apparently, the research division isn’t any closer to figuring out the teleporter. Hyena Tribe still is the only one with that technology. T’Challa feels ambivalent about that: on one side it’s just a tribe that has it, and they obviously worked hard on it; on the other, T’Challa doesn’t want Hyena Tribe to have one over on the Panther Tribe. He’ll give R&D six more months. Maybe a year. Then he’ll reassign the task.

There is some headway being made in some kind of floating foam, which everybody assures him will have so many applications, and look—it’s cute! Just like clouds. T’Challa is not convinced.

Then there’s the team that suggests a tail for the Black Panther suit. It responds to his thoughts and is supposed to aid with balance. Also, another limb is deemed useful. T’Challa is not sure about that. On the one side, it looks great on paper. On the other, it looks too great on paper. T’Challa frowns. He settles in to read the report in depth.

In fact, T’Challa focuses so much on the report that he’s startled when Tony wedges himself between T’Challa and the wall with the door.

“That looks intriguing,” Tony says, gesturing to T’Challa’s face.

T’Challa’s first thought is to scoot over and make room for Tony, but T’Challa quickly stomps on it. If Tony had wanted more room, he’d have chosen the other side. So, T’Challa opts for his second thought: go with the flow.

“They want to give me a tail,” T’Challa says, and it even _sounds_ dubious. 

Tony blinks. “I must’ve heard that wrong.”

“A tail.”

“A tail?”

“A tail.”

“Okay.” Tony blinks again. “It’s got to be evolved enough to link directly to your neurons, anything else would be amateurish. Yeah. I can sort of see the applications of that one—extra limb and balance, right?” he frowns. “Only if you always keep it on.”

“Because otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to maintain balance at all, with or without it,” T’Challa says, easily following Tony’s train of thought. “I would theoretically adjust to the tail, just in time to take it off.”

“Exactly,” Tony agrees. “But even if you keep the tail permanently, it will come up with a whole set of problems.”

T’Challa nods. “Seating.”

“Fucking.” Tony smirks at T’Challa’s raised eyebrow. “Unless you’re not into that.”

“Fucking,” T’Challa confirms. “Clothing.”

“Posture.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” T’Challa says wonderingly. “Probably some changes in the brain. I dislike the idea the more I think about it.”

Tony snorts. “I can tell.” He gestures toward T’Challa’s face. “You wear disapproval well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you scared any small children lately?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa says dryly. “Have you felt frightened at the sight of my face?”

“Not at the sight of your face, no,” Tony practically purrs.

T’Challa feels his eyebrow begin its upward climb. “Then your reputation does you a disservice.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Tony quips. “Maybe you exceed expectations.”

“With my disappointed face?”

“It’s an ‘and,’ there—with something and your disappointed face.”

“From the mouth of babes.”

Tony smiles widely. “I appreciate you noticing my mouth, but it’s only as truthful as my brain.”

“And you take the ‘babes’ part as a compliment?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like to be thought of as kind,” T’Challa retorts with a wide smile.

“You are kind of beautiful.”

“That works too.”

“No, you see, you messed up the order,” Tony tells him, eyes sparkling with good humor.

“Was I supposed to say something nice about you too?”

“It’s only fair.”

T’Challa releases a short laugh. “So this was a fishing expedition.”

“Yes,” Tony confirms, grinning. “But it will probably end with the oh-so-original, ‘no, your face is.’”

T’Challa is mock-disappointed. “It started with my face,” he complains laughingly.

“Your face is,”—Tony smiles mischievously—”glorious… in its display of disappointment.”

“That makes a part of me glorious and I want them all to reach such high praise from you.”

“Hey,” Tony says in between chuckles. “This is my fishing spot. I woke early- _ish_ for this. Find your own.”

“This is a ‘small fish gets eaten by a bigger fish that gets eaten a bird’ situation, I’m afraid.”

“Birds are freakish,” Tony replies, not missing a beat. “They have wings and make me irrationally jealous.”

“It’s not my fault your banter is so tasty.” T’Challa smirks. “I wanted to use a panther comparison, but—”

“Do I look like prey?” Tony interrupts.

“I was trying to avoid that exact mistake.”

Tony snorts. “So you mentioned it anyway?”

“I did,” T’Challa admits with a smile. “But consider—”

“You felt the need to say it?”

“Yes,” T’Challa confesses. “And—”

“It prolonged the conversation,” Tony offers. “But you should consider—”

“I have yet to see you bested, yes.”

Tony laughs. “It’s great to see people strive to achieve something.”

“It’s good to have a purpose in life, if that’s mine, I’ll gladly accept it,” T’Challa says dryly.

“There are worse goals and jobs,” Tony replies. “You can be Ross’s Mark.”

“Ross never seems to find anything on his own,” T’Challa agrees.

“Which begs the question—”

T’Challa, following Tony’s thought process, interrupts and says, “How did he find Mark?”

They make eye contact, hesitate, and then burst into laughter. By the Panther God, T’Challa needed this: he needed the laugh, the banter, and the silly foam fight. It’s amazing how he rediscovers himself these days. That he does around Tony and with him leaves T’Challa with an unsettled feeling in his stomach, but most of all having such a fierce affection for Tony that takes T’Challa’s breath away. 

“What else can you tell me from those?” Tony asks once they’ve calmed down.

“They discovered floating foam that is similar to clouds.”

“Dye it pink and call it cotton candy,” Tony says quickly, his eyes wide.

T’Challa gives him a look.

“While impulsive, it was a good idea,” Tony defends.

“I’m trying to avoid being seen as ‘hello, kitty.’”

Tony’s shoulders shake. “I didn’t consider that,” he lies. He _lies_. Badly. So, so badly.

“If you couldstop laughing for two seconds, I’d actually believe it.”

Tony bites his lower lip. “That’s not a challenge I want to take up.”

“You are a wise man, indeed,” T’Challa says, and hides a chuckle with a cough. Also badly, because he can’t let Tony be alone in this.

“I didn’t even get to enjoy the compliment, your poorly disguised chuckle ruined it,” Tony says and pouts.

T’Challa outright laughs. “You have no leg to stand on.”

“But I have an ass to sit on,” Tony points out.

“Not if they attach a tail.” T’Challa shakes his head, mock-sad.

“That’s not m-my thing,” Tony stutters with laughter. “I don’t have the feline pizzazz. Do you know who has it though?”

“I’d say me, but I don’t want to have any kind of pizzazz.”

“I was going to say Cat Woman, but you obviously haven’t seen yourself in the mirror if you make such outlandish claims.”

“You’re saying I have it?” T’Challa asks doubtfully.

“I’m saying you’re full of it,” Tony answers with a shark grin. 

T’Challa is startled into a laugh. “I fell right into that one.”

“I do what I can.” Tony sketches a bow. “What I can’t is in development.”

“I believe it.” T’Challa smiles slyly. “You’re well within schedule.”

Tony leans closer and whispers, “I like to be late rather than early.”

“I heard a few complaints,” T’Challa whispers back.

“Don’t listen to everybody, T’Challa,” Tony dismisses. “Try it yourself.”

“How can I if it’s in development?”

“We all have our dreams,” Tony says mock-somberly.

T’Challa nods, grinning. “As long as they’re not on cotton candy.”

“Well…” Tony trails off. “Not only.”

T’Challa snorts, and they fell into a companionable silence.

“I don’t fly anymore,” Tony murmurs.

That grabs T’Challa’s attention.

“The armor doesn’t… fit anymore,” Tony says. His eyes are fixed on T’Challa’s bead. “It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I—” Tony interrupts himself. “They gave me a serum. It wasn’t… I fixed it. It gives me advantages: strength, healing, speed… Not on par with the super-soldiers, but enough. They wanted me around for a long time, so they needed to be able to heal me after their less than kind treatment.” He takes a deep breath. “And I fixed it. And, with it, I healed myself. And I escaped. And I fucking did it without the armor.”

T’Challa moves slightly so their shoulders touch. He’s surprised when Tony leans into him. “You did,” T’Challa confirms.

“I once told Pepper that the armor was like a cocoon, and eventually I managed to pry it from my own panicked hands.” Tony smiles humorlessly. “But I never gave it up. Not really. Until now. It’s finally what it’s supposed to be—a tool.”

T’Challa nods but otherwise waits him out.

“A tool I don’t seem to need as much,” Tony finishes pensively.

“That sounds perfectly fine.”

“Does it?” Tony asks. Almost desperately.  He shakes his head. “Why are you so good at this? Because I know how people usually react and you aren’t nailing that. In fact, the people who I’ve met so far in Wakanda all seem weirdly at ease with this, when Wakanda hasn’t participated in any wars that since before I was born.”

“It does sound fine, Tony, you are changing,” T’Challa answers. “You can change your mind about your armor.” He breathes, thinking on how to approach the bigger problem. “The next thing will require an unpleasant explanation.”

Tony frowns, and says, “Thanks for the disclaimer.”

“Just as the United States has States, Wakanda has Tribes.”

Tony gives him a look, and T’Challa winces.

“I would ask you to please be patient until I finish the explanation,” T’Challa asks.

Frown even deeper, Tony nods.

“There are cultural differences between us,” T’Challa says as he turns towards Tony to face him directly. “When you said ‘friend,’ I thought of it as a journey, as something we’d try to be to each other because I took it to mean someone I trust, respect, care for, and appreciate.” T’Challa studies Tony closely, willing him to understand. “But that word means nothing in Wakanda. The concept, however, is the one that is important, because it fits very well the notion of ‘Tribe member.’”

Tony’s frown lessens.

“A Tribe is a group of people that we feel those things for, but in an organic way. Being in a Tribe doesn’t automatically mean we care for or trust each other, but it does mean that we have the same values so we might,” T’Challa explains. “I thought that you fit the definition perfectly.” He offers Tony a timid smile. “You have to pass several tests to be an official part of any Tribe in Wakanda, but to me, that’s the word I use for describing you.”

“We have the same definition—you’re my friend, I’m your fellow tribe member,” Tony accepts.

“Now, you know we are an advanced country,” T’Challa says.

“Yes. Presumably through the collaborative effort of being in groups made up of your friends and people who share the same values.” Tony shrugs. “We reached that point eventually, but we also had wars, which—” He freezes, and studies T’Challa. “Wars bring innovation.”

“‘Skirmishes’ is the word I’d use, but yes,” T’Challa confirms sadly. “We calmed down some, but we’re a warrior culture.”

Tony’s eyebrows are raised. “The US is going to take that as a challenge.”

“Wakanda can easily get the nuclear codes.”

“That’s not the accomplishment you think it is,” Tony dismisses.

T’Challa knows where this is going. “How old were you?”

“Almost fourteen.”

“Did hacking even exist for binary comput—you know what, I’m just going to say that it is still a credible threat to the US.”

“And it is,” Tony agrees. “You were saying?”

T’Challa blows a breath, swallowing a smile. “Skirmishes take place even now. They come with something that Wakanda hasn’t been able to heal completely, though with the technology you have developed we’re getting closer,” he says, his tone gentle.

“PTSD.”

“It’s been a problem.” T’Challa nods. “We learned to deal with it.”

“Yeah,” Tony says pensively. “You did.”

“So now you know.”

“It tracks: cultural differences.” Tony nods. “Are you having any luck with BARF?”

“Some.” T’Challa smiles. “I think Ochieng and Chaushiku wrote you fan letters.”

“You are such a dad with baby pictures,” Tony complains laughingly. “Tone down the glee.”

T’Challa shakes his head. “You can’t say anything to me in that tone and not find yourself accused of hypocrisy.”

Tony snorts. “Speaking of glee, I want to leave the country for a bit this weekend,” he says. “Do I come back or do I find somewhere else to go to? Both would be good to me.”

“Why speaking of glee?” T’Challa frowned. “And don’t you want to return for your therapy?”

“It’s difficult to find information on your country so I’m flying blind on laws and customs,” Tony admits. “And I’m seeing Peter.”

“‘Glee,’ is a good reminder,” T’Challa agrees. “Peter has been in Wakanda six times already; people can come and go if they are invited. I took him under my wing when you went missing. There’s no need to meet him anywhere else.”


	5. Chapter 5

They continue to work together and apart, to banter all the time, and to get closer to their definition of ‘important person’ in each other’s life. T’Challa put any romantic thought out of his mind. If it’s going to happen, then fine, but if it’s not, he’d still have Tony next to him—and that’s what T’Challa truly wanted, the rest is just extra.

*

Around five months after Tony and T’Challa talked, and Tony started to feel at home in Wakanda, a blue and black substance bubbles out of Missouri. It takes over a town, a wave of thick, gelatin-like substance that can’t be stopped by anything the police can come up with. Apparently, there’s nothing to do but wait, and sure enough, it ceases its expansion by itself.Spooked, T’Challa locates Tony and looks in askance at him, wondering if that is his proof.

Tony watches the video contained in the report. “Not yet,” he answers calmly.

And T’Challa swallows, the feeling of dread creeping up on him. He doesn’t want a war, and definitely not to be invaded, but people rarely ask before they try to conquer other territories. This is only going to get worse and, though Tony has told him not to worry yet, T’Challa finds he has problems with Tony’s timeline.

T’Challa can’t just wait. Firstly, there is no way around it: he’s getting antsy. He never dealt well with helplessness, momentary though it may be.

Secondly, it will not look good if the people of Wakanda find out—and they will—that he had information about a coming invasion and he did nothing to address it. There will be no point in his saying that he can’t have been sure, or that the situation demanded subtlety. If he’s actively making the decision to keep silent, he’ll have to own up to it at some point.

Thirdly, and the most morally challenged, this a great opportunity to get the country working on a single goal. Yes, Tony says that no action is needed at this time and that Wakanda can wait until Tony has proof. But to T’Challa, it means that if he decides to rallyhis country around this external threat, there would be no harm in doing it now. He doesn’t have to actually consider their own movements as they align with a bigger plan, and can concentrate on ridding his opponents of support within the country.

T’Challa doesn’t know what Tony wants from him, but what T’Challa knows is that if he plays his cards well, he’ll be able to stop the infighting in his country for a while. Which besides being the most any Black Panther managed to do, except for the first one, would mean that they won’t even stagnate, seeing as their efforts would concentrate on an enemy with unknown technology. Or better said, alien tech, something they haven’t faced since the meteor fell, and have no idea how their efforts could measure against.

But Tony can be lying. T’Challa doesn’t think Tony is, in fact, T’Challa’s restless because he thinks that Tony’s not. However, it would not look good if T’Challa took Tony at his word.

T’Challa could probably swing that, but that means that there has to be a kind of backup plan in case someone, for example, messed with Tony’s mind and implanted that belief… which did happen.

According to their guesses, HYDRA did stick its nasty brainwashing fingers into Tony’s mind.

That is why no matter how much T’Challa respects Tony—and by the Panther God, T’Challa has mountains of respect for Tony—T’Challa still needs to have another plan waiting in the wings because he doesn’t feel compromised but compromised people rarely do.

So, Shuri.

T’Challa has to ask her if she wants to be put in a position to take over for him. It won’t disturb the waters overly much and she’ll be able to continue their father’s legacy. She’ll have to give some speeches about the importance of objectivity—which he knows she truly does believe in, especially after their brief interlude in offering criminals asylum—and he’ll still be able to trust that the country is in good hands if Tony’s information proves wrong.

Plus, if Tony is proven right, then she doesn’t look foolish either because they would have the time to prepare for the invasion as per Tony’s recommendation.

It’ll be another Black Panther fight between Shuri and T’Challa: this time taking place in the eye of the people. If T’Challa is right, then his information was right on the money, and his decision in accordance with his title as Black Panther. If Shuri’s right, then her penchant for waiting and seeing is proven. Either way, at the end of the day, they are still brother and sister, and they would still be important pieces in the cog of leadership in their country. All that would change is that the scale wouldn’t tilt slightly to the side of impuulsive action anymore; instead it will tilt to passive caution.

Shuri and T’Challa are directly opposite, what with him appearing calm while boiling on the inside, and her burning everyone away with the violence she exudes but underneath retaining a calm that used to make T’Challa jealous. Everybody in Wakanda feels it on some level. For all that though, their decisions are not all that different, they just come from another place, and there are few things they actually disagree on.

Besides, it’s good for the country to know that they’ll be represented if they like the risky approach or they prefer a more conservative one.

As soon as T’Challa reaches a decision, he prepares to move to a private workstation to organize his ideas into a semblance of a plan, when his eyes lift and he meets Tony’s pensive stare. It brings T’Challa back to the present in a hurry, wondering how long Tony has been watching him, and what he can read on T’Challa’s face. There’s nothing to go on, Tony has a better poker face than ever, and T’Challa’s only option at this point is to remain silent.

“You’re the leader of a country,” Tony says nonsensically. “I don’t know why that comes as such a surprise.”

“We’re not that different,” T’Challa snaps back, referring to Stark Industries. He sounds calm, like he always does, but he’s being defensive. His plan isn’t ready for any scrutiny, and that’s exactly what Tony does.

With a parody of a smile, Tony says, “Touché, pussycat.” Then the smile is gone and he’s suddenly crouching. “Tell me you’re not using the information for bullshit.” It sounds almost pleading.

“I can’t.” After all, that’s exactly what T’Challa is going to do. T’Challa watches as Tony’s stance subtly changes becoming more predatory. “I’ve got to do what’s best for my people.”

“And what is that?” Tony has mastered the art of sounding neutral to T’Challa’s frustration. 

“A stop to the skirmishes.”

Tony studies him with hard eyes. “An outside threat.”

“If I can do it,” T’Challa begins, “by bullshitting,” he allows, “then I will. It’s better to do it now when I can concentrate on it.” T’Challa meets Tony’s eyes. “It’s just a first step, but it will mean a ceasefire for the time being, and I’d be foolish not to take it.”

Tony releases a breath and plops down on the mat. “Stop the loss of life.”

T’Challa nods.

“You really are a leader,” Tony repeats, shaking his head, and T’Challa feels like he just swallowed an ice cube. “The best kind.”

T’Challa stops breathing for a few seconds, analyzing Tony’s words.

“You’re okay with this?” T’Challa asks. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if the answer is negative. T’Challa isn’t sorry to have thought of it in the first place, but it does feel disingenuous toward Tony, the person who made the decision to give T’Challa the information.

“Yes.” Tony smiles, a small thing, but there nonetheless. “I am.”

T’Challa hesitates, then scoots over and gently bumps his shoulder against Tony. With that small curve still on his lips, Tony leans on T’Challa bringing their shoulders together. And that’s how T’Challa knows they’re okay.

“You have a few more months to get to it,” Tony says quietly.

“Thanks.” Looking at Tony with the knowledge that what Tony doesn’t know he can easily figure out, and trusting him—maybe foolishly—T’Challa asks, “Do you want to help?”

“I can help,” Tony says, but not answering T’Challa’s question. He knows that Tony can, the question is whether he wants to. “Yeah. Yes. I think I do.”

In the end, T’Challa concludes that Tony has a disturbing knowledge of what presenting an image entails, and T’Challa isn’t sure if he should ask or not.

*

Shuri doesn’t like it.

When T’Challa points out that she would just make her opinion known, she snorts, and says, “Why would it matter now? I didn’t do anything about it then.”

His sister’s words effectively throw T’Challa for a loop, and all he can do is prevent his spluttering.

“Besides,” Shuri continues, “I wasn’t against it.”

“You were,” T’Challa said. “I remember it clearly. It even influenced your reaction to Tony.”

“Tony,” Shuri repeats in a sing-song tone.

T’Challa glares.

“I would not have let it go that far, but our father didn’t get killed in front of me. As far as I was concerned, he died, and, peripherally, I was aware that he was killed. Not two days later, the killer was made to answer for his actions by my Chieftain and brother,” Shuri explains as she relents. “That makes us different. It gives me the right to be the one who gets to tell you when you make dumb decisions, but it doesn’t give me the right to object to them.”

T’Challa is speechless.

“When no one else would stand with you, your Tribe will,” Shuri says quietly. “When everyone abandons you, your Tribe won’t. When anyone would leave you fallen, your Tribe would raise your up.”

“I know,” T’Challa protests. He expects her reproaches and wants her to be publically vocal about them. She would never have got them in a situation like this, but he never thought that she’d abandon the Tribe. T’Challa hurries to explain, “It never even crossed my mind that you’d turn against me.”

Shuri’s demeanor gentles, but she ignores—for now, he suspects—his last words. “You too know that me speaking out is a hypothetical consideration for events that you don’t think will happen.” She huffs. “I understand your plan. It certainly gets my stamp of approval. An opportunity to stop the fighting amongst ourselves without seeking to make enemies of our neighbors is…” She shakes her head. “It must not be squandered.”

“You?” T’Challa asks incredulously. “You talking about _opportunities_ is like…”

“Hearing mom talk about YouTube?”

T’Challa nods. “I presume she gets good use out of it, but I would never expect her to admit to it.”

“What you don’t seem to understand is that the opportunity only came about because of you,” Shuri tells him. Well, it’s more like he accuses him. It doesn’t seem such an accomplishment to hear it said in that tone. But then again, most of what Shuri says doesn’t, and she’s apparently confident in his abilities. “I’d never have gotten advanced information about this in time to make it matter. It’s your efforts, your relationships, and your connections that brought us on this path. I believe in what you are trying to do, and I believe you are the only one who can do it.” She grins slyly. “If no other reason that you’re the only one who seems to know what’s going on.”

T’Challa snorts.

“And T’Challa…” Shuri takes a step forward, and she brings her hands to his cheeks. “I agree with what are you doing. And if it should fail, my place is, and always has been, next to you.”

“I expected that from you, but not—”

“When it was you?” Shuri grins. “And when exactly was I supposed to show it before?”

 T’Challa opens his mouth and finds that he has nothing to say.

“I want to continue our father’s legacy,” Shuri continues, thankfully not commenting on his lack of an answer. “There are always pests. Distractions. _Risks._ We will always disagree, and we will always agree. Remember that. So, I don’t agree with my part in all of this, but I agree with your goals. See how the meeting goes, do your best, and, if you still need me, I will do my best.”

“But not how I envisioned.”

“No. As our Tribe, I will be by your side,” Shuri says, resolute. “You might not perceive it as a betrayal because your eyes are not on your fate, but this is one of those things that could use a cooler head.”

T’Challa sighs. “I could see you swinging it.” He smiles. “You can handle yourself in any situation, I don’t doubt that. I just wanted a smoother transition, both for you and for our country.”

Smiling, Shuri says, “You’re underestimating how much crap I’d get for criticizing everyone’s favorite Chieftain.”

“People love you.”

“They do,” Shuri agrees. “But they also love you. And, what they love most is both of us, Tribesmen sticking together—the clear representation of what Wakanda is.”

 *

“There’s going to be an invasion,” T’Challa says gravely to the assembled chieftains. “I want us to be prepared accordingly.”

There’s a moment of silence that follows, a stillness in which everybody struggles to get over the surprise of the announcement.

“Pardon?”  Duma, Butterfly Tribe Chieftain, asks. He seems to think T’Challa is going to admit he misspoke if Duma just tries hard enough. 

“Can you give us more details?” Efe, Crocodile Tribe Chieftain, asks. She appears to be the least perturbed.

“I have been told of an approaching invasion,” T’Challa answers. “The threat is not on this planet.”

M’Baku, Ape Tribe Chieftain, sworn enemy of the Panther Tribe, known opponent of his father’s decision of reentering the world, and T’Challa’s old friend, raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” T’Challa meets M’Baku’s eyes. “I want each of you to look over your military capabilities and then I want a report: what you can do; what you wished you could do; and how do you get to your ideal standard. You have a week.”

“Do actually expect to receive any such… reports?” M’Baku asks idly, and Tameeka, from the Lion Tribe, snorts.

Ape and Lion Tribes are those who resent Panther Tribe for what they say amounts to dragging the country into the spotlight. Lion Tribe just doesn’t like to be led anywhere and is the forever-opposing Tribe. Ape has its issues with technology and would rather Wakanda didn’t use any. 

There’s another Tribe, Hyena, which is another known enemy for the Panther Tribe, but their resentment is of the usual variety in Wakanda: they want to know who has the best tech. That Tribe is still Panther and will always be Panther, if T’Challa has something to say about it. However, Hyena Tribe has managed to figure out the teleporter, which is something that continues to baffle Panther’s scientists and sours T’Challa’s mood. 

So there are three Tribes that directly oppose telling T’Challa anything and fourteen others who are opposed indirectly.

Easy.

“As you well know, in the event of a war, the Laws force you,” T’Challa responds.

“A war that only you know about,”Tameeka says, and sneers. “Where is the proof?”

T’Challa lifts his chin. “I don’t have it at the moment. It’s not common knowledge.”

Zauna, of the Warthog Tribe, asks, “Where did you find out about it?” Her tone is neutral.

“A well-placed source,” T’Challa says.

“Yes, the way things are going I don’t see you getting those reports any time soon,”Tameeka quips and rolls his eyes. However, both M’Baku and Selat, Chieftain of Hyena Tribe, are silent. Tameeka—not realizing he lost his supporters, or not caring—adds, “Is this sham of a meeting over yet?”

Iffeh, of the Impala Tribe, spares a glance at Tameeka, before speaking up. “What can you tell us?” she insists.

“You don’t believe him, do you?!”Tameeka asks incredulously and is summarily ignored by everyone.

“I cannot give proof,” T’Challa says. “But I can tell you that in a few months’ time there will be a global announcement. Also, I can tell you that the name of the person after Terra—for what good that’ll do you—is Thanos. He is the one behind the New York invasion, Loki being a disobedient puppet.”

“Anthony Edward Stark,” M’Baku says. “That’s your well-placed source.”

T’Challa hesitates, but eventually, he nods.

Selat rubs her chin, and asks, “Isn’t his brain HYDRA-scrambled?”

Again, T’Challa nods.

“Then how do you expect us to believe him?”Tameeka explodes.

“By spending time with him, I have reached the conclusion that he knows what he’s talking about.” T’Challa leans forward. “There’s an ethical dilemma about attacking someone without being attacked, but I don’t see how that applies here. Am I expected to keep quiet in the event of a threat?”

“But you’re sure?”Efe asks.

“No,” T’Challa says. “I am certain enough to move on the information, but not positive.”

“Very well.”M’Chap, Chieftain of the Wildebeest Tribe, nods, managing to surprise his nephew, M’Baku. “You will have that report. After all, our Laws demand it. But know that, if in a years’ time the threat doesn’t prove real, I’ll know how to act.”

Both Iffeh and Zauna give their agreement. Efe, like Duma, seems to ponder the situation. And Tameeka snarls, but says, “You’ll have our report, but I hope you know what you are doing.”

“Of course,” T’Challa says nonchalantly. “No more skirmishes for six months. At least. Maybe a year.”

M’Baku leans heavily in his seat, while Efe is left blinking. Tameeka appears to doubt that he heard right and looks to Zauna for confirmation. She frowns, taken aback, but nods. Shuri was right, this opportunity already changes people.

But the one who most surprises T’Challa is M’Chap, who laughs and says, “That’s what I want to see.” His tone is full of satisfaction. “I hope you are proven right, T’Challa, I really do.”M’Chap turns to the other Chieftains. “Do we agree to stop the skirmishes?”

To T’Challa’s complete and utter shock, Tameeka is the one who huffs and nods first. Zauna is not far behind. The rest follow, with the exception of M’Baku. He studies T’Challa for a long time until he relents.

It occurs to T’Challa that this is a momentous occasion.

“Can we go now? I have a report to write,”Tameeka complains.

“Thank you for coming,” T’Challa says, and nods. “M’Baku, a word?”

The Chieftains freeze for a second, then hurry out of the room, leaving M’Baku snorting as he watches them.

“Cowards,” M’Baku mumbles, but he stays where he is.

Taking a deep breath and reviewing what he talked about with Tony—which sums up to T’Challa being as honest as possible—T’Challa asks, “Why can’t Wakanda have it all?”

“Are we actually sitting down for a discussion?”

“I am sitting down, you are too, and I want us to have a discussion, so… yes.” T’Challa shrugs. “You are the only one who I can hope to get through to by talking.”

“And it only took us, what? Close to forty years?”

“Better than never.”

“Why us? Because we used…” M’Baku licks his lips as he hesitates. “Because I used to be a Panther?”

“Partly,” T’Challa admits. “Mostly because you’re the only one who shows glimpses of rationality.”

“Words of praise,” M’Baku says dryly.

“If you don’t agree with my assessment point me in the direction of more rational people that support your cause and you’re out of here.”

“‘Glimpses of rationality’ is fucking insulting.”

“Oh, and here I thought I was talking to the man who tried to kill me because I am a better warrior than he is.”

“To be fair, if I’d managed to kill you, I would be the better warrior,” M’Baku says in his defense. “And you were the one who wanted to rule without any kind of oversight.”

“I’d get shit done,” T’Challa says grumpily.

M’Baku snorts.

“The discussion, we’re having it?” T’Challa asks.

“Because we’re losing our identity!” M’Baku answers loudly. “That’s why we can’t have it all.” He throws T’Challa a contemptuous look. “Wipe that expression off your face before I do it for you. What couldn’t you do without technology?”

“I’d say the various medical applications, but since you asked that question you must be ready for that answer, so I’m going to say… indoor plumbing.”

M’Baku blinks. “That… I see your point.” His nose scrunches up. “But there are kids running around today that would be lost without technology: implants, suits, synths to stay awake, and all the other crap. They don’t know the first thing about not giving up, working for shit, hell, do you think anyone would be able to take down a fucking black panther at their trials like you did? Do you anyone would have the balls to let it go? What if you take all their gear?”

“I see your point,” T’Challa admits. “But we’re going to need all of that other crap to survive being in an interplanetary world.”

“We won’t survive shit if we don’t first learn ourselves, our bodies, and our limits,” M’Baku accuses. “And you know it.”

“So teach them!” T’Challa yells.

“What?”

“We don’t have time now because I really think that something big is coming, but if we survive that—no, no I’m saying it wrong.” T’Challa stops and takes a deep breath. “I’ll put you and Shuri in charge of preparing our troops. Not the Doras, the military. She’ll be the one with the technology, and you’ll be the one with the sticks. If you can prove to me—with no cheating—that the army responds better, that integrating the normal human body is the way to go, then I’ll make it mandatory to incorporate in the training.” He studies M’Baku. “Good enough?”

M’Baku hesitates. “Passable.” But there’s a grin on his face.

“Oh, and as long as Tribes exist, we won’t lose our identity.”

“There’s an argument to be made that Tribes are so important to us because there’s constant fighting.”

“Tournaments?” T’Challa proposes as an alternative.

“Not real enough.”

“Bragging rights?”

“Closer.”

“We’ll talk again after we survive this,” T’Challa says, and flaps a hand.

M’Baku frowns. “So you think the information is real.” When T’Challa looks at him in askance, M’Baku adds, “You didn’t go with it just to make the Tribes stop beating on each other.”

“I believe him,” T’Challa confesses. “Plus, I showed him that bubbly crap and he wasn’t fazed, so either he knows more than he’s saying or he’s completely gone.”

“You don’t think he is.”

“No.”

“We knew the aliens existed,” M’Baku offers uncertainly.

“Yes, but there’s one thing for them to crash land here, and another for them to come in droves.” T’Challa rubs his forehead. “Tony says we have time even if I only believe him when he can offer proof. That means he has a plan. But, still.”

“Yeah, invasion—never a good thing,” M’Baku agrees. “Tends to turn plans to dust.”

T’Challa nods.

“Tony, huh?” M’Baku wiggles his brows.

“C’mon!” T’Challa shouts exasperatedly. “On second thought, you should be as far away from my sister as possible.”

“Does she still like books?” M’Baku asks with a smile. “The smell of ink, stains on the paper?”

T’Challa narrows his eyes. “Yes…? Why?”

“No reason.”

“Mmhmm.” T’Challa leans back and smirks. “How much convincing do you think I’d have to do before I’ve got everyone saying that you should give up your plumbing for a year if you are so adamant to live without technology?” he asks innocently. “What was that? Not at all?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Still a smooth jerk, T’Challa,” M’Baku says, shaking his head.

T’Challa smiles. “Still a caring moron, M’Baku.”

“I am the most rational person you know.”

“I did not say that.”

“Didn’t you? Because I’m pretty sure you did.”

*

“Were you…” T’Challa gets closer to see better. “Were you watching me?”

“I was testing your firewalls,” Tony counters with a smile without looking at T’Challa. “FRIDAY managed to get past them, you need better ones. But I didn’t get much because there was one thing that… escaped me.”

“We were talking in Wakandan.”

“Got it in one,” Tony admits, chuckling. “But it looked like it went fine.” He shrugs. “Lots of nodding.” Tony turns to T’Challa. “And the eyebrow-wiggle at the same time as my name. That, I’d recognize anywhere.”

T’Challa rolls his eyes. “That was inappropriate teasing.”

“Wasn’t that guy one of those against you?” Tony wonders. “I remember him from his picture. M-something, right? M’Baka? M’Baku? M’Baku.”

“He wasn’t always,” T’Challa says easily, as he lowers himself next to Tony. “He was a contestant to Black Panther, along with Shuri.”

Tony snorts. “What happened?”

“He didn’t get it.”

“You send him packing so far he ended up your enemy, didn’t you?”

“He ended up an enhanced and against technology, yes.”

Tony’s shoulders move under his amusement. “Did you kiss and make up?”

“Not quite,” T’Challa responds, his eyes narrowed. “I think I’m the wrong sibling for that level of reconciliation.”

“Jealous or overprotective?” Tony asks amusedly.

“Neither.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow.

“He’s... well, he isn’t now, but he was Tribe… family. I’ve known him since we were little. It would feel wrong,” T’Challa denies. “Overprotective, I’m not allowed to be. My sister and me, we were taking liberties with each other’s interests, so we instated a no-interference policy.”

“Sounds nice,” Tony says with a small smile, but he doesn’t clarify whether he’s talking about M’Baku or Shuri. Maybe he means both. “But you and M’Baku are getting along better?”

“Better than we have in a decade,” T’Challa agrees.

Tony grins. “So, what’s next?”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

T’Challa is in an underground facility, fighting a golden-skinned, overpowered shaman. Warlock. Whatever. If he had time for it, he’d be getting a headache right about now.

Tony had told T’Challa three months after his meeting with the Chieftains that Tony’s proof would be the testimony of a team from outer space. A meeting was supposed to be arranged by an unknown person, but when they—Tony, T’Challa, the Avengers, old and new—got to an out-of-the-way ex-SHIELD facility it turned out that the space team was being hunted. The hunter is a fast, strong, wizard of some sort.

Oh, Thor and Loki are here too since they are, apparently, the people who arranged the meeting.

“I’m sorry, man,” Peter says while doing a wonderful job dodging the flurry of punches. “I didn’t get your name before you started the maiming.”

Because the sun-sorcerer—who has a jewel in his forehead like Vision, and it doesn’t seem like it is in any way good news—has decided that all of them need to be put out of commission since they were in the vicinity of his prey.

“I am Adam Warlock!” he thundered, teleporting away from the agile Peter, but in claw-range of T’Challa.

What is T’Challa supposed to do when Warlock offers himself like that? Take a swipe. So, T’Challa takes four.

“Surrender!” Warlock yells. And then quieter he adds, “And your death will be painless.” He says it like a blessing.

T’Challa dropkicks him into a wall.

“Rocket!” Starlord, as he introduced himself, or Quill, as his team introduced him, shouts.

The space-team is something out of a fairytale. There’s Quill, who looks human, and who’s the leader of the team along with a green-skinned woman who seems very adept with a sword, Gamora. Then there’s an arrow-wielder-through-whistles man, Kraglin, a woman with antennae and huge eyes, Mantis, a well-spoken but violent pink-and-blue man, Drax, a technologically-able talking raccoon, Rocket, and a tree whom everyone seems to treat like a teenager, Groot. All in all, he has met more normal-looking people, but this team acts more like a Tribe, so T’Challa is going to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Surprisingly, Warlock is not the problem.

As T’Challa watches, Thor jumps at Warlock, who teleports out of the way, sending Thor into Hulk and enraging him. Hulk throws Thor into the big Ant-Man, toppling Lang over. Barnes barely escapes the falling body, but Lang’s foot catches Barton’s perch and brings it down. Barton’s fortunately caught by Vision, who has to resort to evasive maneuvers because he almost collides with Wilson, who in turn is trying to avoid Rogers’s deflected shield by an uncaring Warlock. The shield doesn’t stop there, taking out Gamora, but being finally caught by Rhodes.

Peter tries to catch Warlock in his web, but Drax interferes, shouting something while charging towards Warlock, and, in the confusion, Warlock teleports away, leaving Drax to duck under Kraglin’s arrow. Rhodes tries to put his artillery to good use and maneuvers himself to have Warlock in his line of sight. But Rhodes collides with Rogers, who, in trying to get at his shield that Rhodes has dropped to the floor and, at the same time, keeping an eye on Warlock, has lost track of his surroundings. That takes out both of them, and Mantis, leaving Quill in their wake to start shooting at Warlock. Only Warlock has planned it well, so when he teleports out he leaves Quill and Romanoff shooting at each other. They both duck.

Warlock then reappears close to T’Challa. Loki has seemingly figured out Warlock’s pattern, because a lance of ice is waiting for him, freezing his feet to the floor. This is T’Challa chance. He jumps, takes a swipe, and a second one, but as that one connects, Roger’s shield lands on his wrist, making T’Challa lose valuable seconds.

That’s all Warlock needs.

T’Challa is violently thrown backward by Warlock, clearing a handrail, and in free fall for a couple of levels. Thankfully he’s caught by Iron Man. Friday, T’Challa thinks, not Tony.

“Thank you,” T’Challa says because, no matter the person behind the mask, he is grateful, and looks up to see Warlock gone. Annoyed, T’Challa searches for Rogers and he finds him hurrying towards his new shield. “Enough with the shield!” T’Challa shouts, and he hears Wilson and Gamora make approving noises.

Rogers doesn’t listen.

And that right there is the problem: not only Rogers but the whole mayhem. They keep tripping over each other. There’s no strategy. And Warlock takes advantage of that.

The abandoned SHIELD building has six levels with an open-plan large lobby that has clear lines of sight to all individual floors. Their initial impulse is to surround Warlock in the open space and keep him there, so they spread: some came at him from the front, some from the sides, some from behind, and some from above. So they did.

T’Challa first chose approaching Warlock from the left, but when he proved capable of teleporting, T’Challa jumped to the higher ground. He, along with Barnes, and Barton are the ones that chose the upper levels because it made sense strategically. Rhodes, Peter, Iron Man, Loki, Wilson, Quill, and Gamora are able to move freely and are the ones following Warlock, while Rogers, Lang, Drax, Thor, Hulk opted for the ground attack, a level up at most. Romanoff is there too, but she sticks to long-range, hidden attacks.

The plan, such as it was, should have worked, but they keep getting in each other’s way.

“We really suck at this!” Quill shouts as he dodges a spell and runs into a wall.

“My friends and shield-brothers, I fear we need some sort of plan,” Thor says regretfully, eyes following Quill.

“I cannot believe those words left your lips either,” Loki comments dryly and a bit uncharitably, but Thor looks like he agrees.

They are acting like brothers and it seems to freak everybody else out.

Loki adds, “But I think that yelling the plan would make out intentions a tad obvious—our enemy is equipped with both ears and comprehension.”

Thor grunts. “I do hope you know what you are doing,” he says nonsensically.

“Do you not trust me, brother?” Loki asks, amused and smirking.

“Is there any way to answer that question that will not make me a fool?” Thor shot back brightly to Loki’s laughter, and T’Challa shakes his head knowing that there is something going on but not what.

Before T’Challa has the time to proceed to his frustration, though Warlock serves as a good scratching post if that is the case, Rocket comes running out of a previously sealed door on the ground level shouting, “It’s gonna blow!”

Rocket launches himself at a sullen and unmoving Groot, who has apparently functioned as a guard, but Rocket doesn’t manage to make him budge. Groot makes a confused sound, trying to get Rocket off without success. But Rocket is not alone. Tony is on his heels, and grabs Groot by the knees, making him fall. Not wasting time, Tony and Rocket drag Groot under the Reception Desk. That’s as good as a confirmation to Rocket’s earlier warning, and T’Challa spares a second to locate Peter. He dives behind a wall on the fifth level, he should be fine, and so T’Challa ducks under a help desk on the third floor.

There’s a loud boom, and a few seconds later the desk T’Challa is hidden behind creaks, probably catches on fire, but there’s no place for him to go at the moment. It’s an ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ situation. There is no place to go now. Three seconds later with a loud moan, the desk announces its death. T’Challa rolls out. He covers his mask with an arm, letting his suit absorb the rush of flames, the force of the blast, and the heat. It should be done soon.

A slowly drawn breath, an equally slow exhale, and he doesn’t get to do it again before the danger has passed.

T’Challa flicks his eyes at the door Peter disappeared behind—it doesn’t look like it was too affected—and at Tony. He’s… singed but moving. It doesn’t tell T’Challa a whole lot, but, at least, Tony’s not dead. Yet. T’Challa jumps down a level, rolls, and sees that Tony has only what seem to be superficial burns.

So T’Challa, relieved, is free to act. He takes advantage of everyone’s confusion in the aftermath of the blast to pick out Warlock. Reaching for the suit’s energy supplies, T’Challa pushes it all into attacking Warlock. Not needing much in the way of encouragement, Friday follows with a chest beam. And Loki, seemingly unaffected by the mayhem, joins in.

They almost have him. But Warlock is determined not to be stopped. He takes down his shields… And teleports next to Tony, grabbing him by the neck and displaying him for all to see. Warlock has rebuilt his shields, but it’s obvious he’s tired. They managed to—somehow—corner him since he has a hostage now, but as with any predator, it gets worse before it gets better.

Odd though, Tony dangling has more of an effect that T’Challa realized. He and Peter’s sudden stop, T’Challa expected, maybe even FRIDAY, Rhodes, and Vision’s sudden stillness, but not Barnes cursing, Loki momentarily freezing, or Rocket’s aborted movement. And the others are not far behind.

“It seems you have a lot of people caring about you,” Warlock says conversationally.

“Why… do… people… have… an obsession for… strangling me?” Tony asks as he struggles to breathe.

Loki snorts. “Worse, he lacks the excuse of hearing you speak,” he says lightly, though his fingers are clenched on his dagger.

“I… resemble that,” Tony bites back.

But Warlock ignores the by-play, saying, “It was foolish of you to be here, especially with such a glaring weakness.”

“And yet… I still helped destroy… your creepy pod… Reverse King Midas,” Tony manages to say.

Warlock loses some of his calm as he glares and says, “Iron.”

Tony’s eyes widen as he intensifies his struggles.

“Smirk,” Warlock says, and there are three bullets impacting with this shield.

T’Challa locates the shooter. It’s Barnes. He’s pale, but his hands are sure as he readies his weapon, and waits. T’Challa has a bad feeling about this.

“Ninety-one…seventeen,” Tony tries.

Warlock pays him no mind. “Red lipstick.”

Rogers inhales sharply.

“Ninety-one—seventeen,” Tony snaps back.

“Piano,” Warlock replies.

“Ninety-oneseventeen,” Tony says faster.

“Sun.”

“Ninetyoneseventeen.”

“Coconut.”

“Ninetyoneseventeen.”

“Seven.”

“Ninetyoneseventeen.”

By this time T’Challa thinks that everyone in the know recognizes a HYDRA brainwashing sequence. Barnes reaction makes perfect sense. There should be ten words and then… T’Challa prepares himself and sees others get ready around him. Thor, Loki, and Quill’s team don’t know what this is about, but they sense something and follow suit. But the sad thing is, they are going to turn on each other. Rhodes is already poised to take Barnes out, and FRIDAY to take on Rogers.

“Thirsty.”

“Ninetyoneseventeen.”

“1991.” And then Warlock blurts out as if compelled, “Seventeen.” His eyes widen, and so do T’Challa’s.

Tony has just manipulated Warlock.

Everything stops. Warlock looks lost. T’Challa feels a smile take shape.

Loki’s cackling laughter and Peter’s incredulous one break the silence. Warlock has no time to fix his mistake, and he seems incapable to recover himself in a hurry.  So when Tony grabs Warlock’s arm, uses it, along with Warlock’s thigh, as leverage to haul himself up and kick Warlock in the chin, Warlock isn’t in any condition to stop him.

Warlock’s head snaps back, the stone comes off, and Tony escapes. He lands lightly and then aims another kick to Warlock’s gouged out side. Warlock groans, and falls.

“FRIDAY!” Tony shouts.

Warlock’s shields must be down because FRIDAY is in there, aiming… Oh, apparently, Tony has managed to crack the teleporter. That’s good. Especially since he is now sending the stone somewhere. Hopefully, far away.

Tony turns to Loki. “Loki, I don’t—”

Teleporting next to Tony, Loki says, “Victor has found a way.”

“Just type,” Tony says fast, gesturing to FRIDAY’s metal arm where a keyboard is projected. “Send it—”

“In the opposite direction,” Loki agrees.

Explanations, T’Challa needs them.

“Done,” Loki says.

A few—dozen—bullets make sure Warlock stays down. T’Challa looks at Barnes and confirms that he is the shooter. He looks pissed off.

Tony creates a portal under the stone, sends it through, and then he closes the portal. He sighs slowly, relieved but mindful of his throat. Not wasting time, he transfers the teleporter to his arm, all the while facing Warlock. Tony’s lips twitch when he sees Warlock’s condition. He’s burnt, scored, shot, and encased in ice up to his nose—Loki having taken advantage of Warlock’s temporarily indisposed state to freeze him to the floor.

“Tarzan, I’m not sorry to say this to you: you’ve looked better,” Tony says. Studying Warlock, Tony tells him, “How about you go away? And never come back.”

Warlock struggles, making Loki twitch and add another thick layer of ice over him.

“Think of it as another hunt,” Loki offers. “Instead of people, your prey would be your precious Stone.”

“Not as interesting, we know, but then again there’s no more pod. No more insta-heal. You can be killed now,” Tony says. There’s a threat in his tone and he doesn’t bother to make it subtle. “And we won’t hesitate.”

“If you decide to go, however, we won’t interfere,” Loki adds. He has his hands extended, but the sly air accompanying every gesture all but negates that.

Warlock shakes his head once. It’s definitive. He cannot or will not.

“The Guardians saved the galaxy,” Loki begins.

“Twice,” Quill pipes up.

“And are trying for a third,” Loki continues. “Does your leader react logically, or from arrogance?”

“I _hear_ that this started from a theft. But I don’t _know_ of any hardships that have come with that. The Guardians have made a mistake,” Loki says, his tone striking a lilting rhythm. “I _hear_ that Sovereign ships interfered with the Guardians at a sensitive time. But I don’t _know_ of any repercussion to the Sovereign by the Empires in the Galaxy. The Guardians have kept silent. I _hear_ that you were created because somebody’s pride was hurt. But I don’t _know_ of any act of gratitude made by the Sovereign for saving them along with the rest. The Guardians deserve better.”

Tony blinks rapidly and straightens, and T’Challa completely understands.

“Wow,” Rocket whispers.

“Now I’ll be honest you,” Tony says harshly, almost abrasively after Loki’s trance-inducing speech. “I’m not delighted you wanted to mess with my head. In fact, I’d like to figure out some way for you to watch in horrified agony, as your heart keeps pounding away outside your body, not being able to move or fall unconscious.” He grins and it’s all teeth. “I’d take it as a challenge.”

_“Wow,”_ Rocket whispers again, both his eyes and his smile wide.

“Unless,” Loki says calmly, “you decide that hunting the stone—”

“And _not_ the Guardians,” Tony adds.

“—is the _fair_ thing to do,” Loki whispers.

Tony and Loki making such a great team sends a shiver down T’Challa’s spine though he can’t help but agree with the results.

And sure enough, after a few more seconds of stillness, Warlock nods.

“Good,” Loki notes, a smirk on his face.

Tony types something—presumably the coordinates—into the teleporter. “Now fetch.”

A portal opens. Warlock falls. It closes. Silence is left behind.

And T’Challa suddenly remembers with a wince just how badly their little skirmish went.

“Great job, guys,” Tony says with dramatic enthusiasm. “We suck at fighting together.”

Quill jumps and high-fives Tony.

“I am Groot.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

In the end, they decide to leave the smoking building, anonymously call the firefighters to make sure they don’t accidentally burn the whole place down, and then make their way to a nearby forest. It’s the low-tech solution, but right now, it seems the best one they have. So, after half an hour of the weirdest hike in T’Challa’s life, they agreed to stop at a small clearing. It is about as large as a meeting room, but it doesn’t have the acoustics of one.

T’Challa gets to the opposite side of the clearing and, in two easy jumps, gets up in the ‘v’ of a tree, and settles down, lounging on a branch. Peter doesn’t waste time and makes himself a web swing on the other branch. Tony leans fully on the tree itself, while FRIDAY and Rhodes go to Tony’sleft, and to his right, Loki, and Thor. FRIDAY is watching Tony’s back, placing herself with her front to the woods, as opposed to the clearing like everyone else, while Rhodes chose the opposite way, watching everyone for any suspicious moves. Thor, on Tony’s other side, sits at the base of the next tree, and Loki seems to have the same idea as T’Challa, though Loki prefers to stand.

While T’Challa didn’t mean for it to happen, when the rest straighten as they enter the clearing, it becomes rather obvious that they strike a confrontational pose.

Oh, well.

Vision, after a brief hesitation, takes his place at Rhodes’ left, while Hulk decides to turn back to Dr. Bannerand chooses to sit between Rhodes and Vision.

On the other side of the clearing, Rogers’ team fans around him. With Barnes and Barton taking the high ground, there’s no other choice for Wilson than to land. And since Loki has sent a poisonous smile in Romanoff’s direction, she stands to Rogers’ right, under Barton, leaving his left for Wilson or Lang. Lang doesn’t seem to trust her and is pretty awkward with the sudden tension, so he sits at the base of the next tree to Rogers’s left, leaving the place in the middle for Wilson. Barnes, again, surprises T’Challa, by turning his back towards the group, standing guard in a relaxed crouch.

Quill’s team is caught in the middle, unsure how to proceed. They sense something is afoot, but probably don’t know what. Gamora freezes, and looks to Quill, exchanging glances. T’Challa’s guess is that they’ll choose to stand on the outskirts of the two groups, that’s what he would have done, but they don’t.

They decide to stand with Tony.

“Hey, can you make me one of those?” Rocket asks a surprised Peter gesturing to T’Challa’s branch.

Peter’s hand is already moving. “Sure thing.”

“Thanks,” Rocket says and jumps easily from Groot’s arm to the newly made swing.

Groot yawns. Moving slowly before coming to a stop, he stretches both his arm and his legs, creating a bridge between T’Challa’s tree and Loki’s. Drax sits in front of Groot, Kraglin stands with his back toward Groot’s assuming the guard position, and Mantis comes to a stop to Groot’s left.

“Now’s not the time for stretching,” Quill quips, as he comes to stand on Groot’s other side.

To Quill right, Gamora leans an arm on Loki’s tree, seemingly bored with everyone.

“This tension is killing me, guys,” Peter opens with a joke.

“One would think that you know the value of a pose, Spider-Man,” Tony says wryly. “I’ve seen yours in enough newspapers to think about copyrighting it.”

“It looks badass,” Peter defends.

“ _We_ look badass,” Tony retorts and then, looking at T’Challa, Tony just smirks.

Narrowing his eyes under the mask, T’Challa says drily, “I found another point in the tail’s favor.”

Tony laughs, his head smacking back on the tree. “That’s a terrible reason and not Tribe-approved.”

“Tail?” Rocket asks curiously.

“I was offered one,” T’Challa says.

Rocket looks at him, shrugging. “One more limb to worry about, but it’s okay.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa says warmly, surprised at Rocket’s openness. “And doesn’t it—” He interrupts himself, knowing that now is not the time. “Can I speak to you at length later?” T’Challa asks Rocket.

“I guess,” Rocket replies, blinking and suddenly shy.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony says dramatically, “we are gathered here today so I can tell you—” He gestures to Quill’s team.

“Um… Thanos is coming this way with an army?” Quill asks, scratching the back of his head.

“Thanos can’t be killed,” Gamora offers.

Rocket nods and adds, “It’s a fucking huge army.”

“—I told you so,” Tony finishes.

“Tony,” Rogers snaps, but the sharp reprimand is quickly lost in Drax’ laughter. Loki and Rocket chuckle. Quill, Peter, Rhodes, Thor, and T’Challa are on the way there. T’Challa even sees Barnes’ shoulders shaking. The scolding is met with narrowed eyes but otherwise ignored.

Oh, and T’Challa fucking called it.  

Rogers takes a deep breath. “And we’re supposed to… what? Simply believe these people?”

Drax growls. “Why wouldn’t you believe us? I don’t understand.”

“Yes, pretty much,” Tony answers, ignoring Drax for the moment. “I worked with Loki. Then we brought in Doom. We finally found Quill and his team. I _tried_ to tell you, a lot of times, and you called me Cassandra. So I needed proof. I present to you: the Guardians of the Galaxy. They know about Thanos and have saved—you guessed it, not a very inventive name—their own galaxy.”

“Twice,” Quill quips.

Tony doesn’t even blink. “Trying for the third time with another, our, galaxy.”

“When you start by saying you work with villains, I don’t know why the hell we don’t just _jump_ to the same conclusions,” Barton says dryly.

“What’s the difference? They break laws, we break laws. They kill people, we kill people. They make plans for conquering the world, you end up in their jail.” Tony shrugs, his lips curving with a shit-eating grin. “Wait. Is that the problem?”

Roger takes another breath. Deeper this time. “You aren’t making your case, Tony.”

“You know what? I don’t need to make my case. That is not what’s going on here, pay attention.” Tony snaps his fingers, a familiar smirking mask settling on his features. “This is your last chance.”

“For what?” Lang asks.

“To get any say on whether you’ll be of any actual help or you are going to stay righteous puppets,” Tony retorts calmly.

Romanoff says quietly and condescendingly, “Tony, this is not the time for your games, peo—”

But Tony’s clearly not in the mood to argue. “Are you going to make this about my ego? Ms. ‘You need us’? Flipping your hair and flipping the U.S. Government at the same time? And it’s _my_ ego that… What were you going to say? Tests your patience? Endangers people?”

“Weren’t you supposed to be amnesiac, Tony?” Romanoff asks with the air of someone who knows her foot on her enemy’s throat.

That’s enough for T’Challa. “Agent Romanoff,” he speaks up. “Surely you are aware of amnesia from traumatic events and how it works. Sometimes the memories come back, others only a part of it, and others still don’t remember at all. Your question makes no sense.”

“She failed Psychology 101, T’Challa,” Tony says in a mockingly soothing voice. “That didn’t stop her from making assessments, but nobody is perfect.”

“I can vouch for that assertion,” Loki volunteers. He has an innocent grin and a wicked gleam in his eye, and, if T’Challa was the type to hide, he would have.

“That nobody is perfect?” Peter asks while swinging like he hasn’t a care in the world.

“That is an accurate statement that I thought needed no further support.” Loki waves it away like he is dispelling smoke. “No. I meant her skill at making assessments to use in interrogations. Too arrogant, is my opinion.”

Tony snorts, but it’s Barton who says viciously, “You are the last person who should comment on that character trait.”

“Perhaps,” Loki seems to be acknowledging with a modest bow of his head. Humble? Loki? Not from what T’Challa saw in the footage of New York. No fucking likely. “But here I am with my allies, that I assumed I would need in the upcoming fight, and compromises were made in getting them.” He gestures to everyone on Tony’s side, and Banner rears back as if insulted.

“While there you are with your handful of”—Loki sneers—“ _perfectly_ competent people, gleefully disobeying the will of 140 countries. The reason we had to meet here is that in 139 of them, you are not allowed to go.” With a wicked smirk, he gives the death blow. “And you cannot even ascribe _one_ purpose to yourselves, not truly. One of your team is _ours_. He is just unsure of his welcome.”

Barnes stills, and Rogers snarls.

In a vicious tone, Rogers says, “That wasn’t the will of the people—”

“It was the will of their Governments,” Tony says. 

“And Governments are corrupt,” Rogers retorts.

“That gives you the right to decide for the whole country?” Tony asks airily.

“I decided for me,” Rogers says, raising his voice.

“And in the process broke laws, destroyed property, injured civilians and law officers alike, and killed people,” Tony replies.

“I _defended_ people the law wouldn’t,” Rogers maintains firmly.

“While _killing_ others,” Tony repeats in a bored tone.

Rogers is close to yelling. “That isn’t—”

“No, he is right,” Drax interrupts. “I’ve been reliably informed that killing people is breaking the law. It does not matter how annoying they are.”

Rogers glares at Drax, but Drax simply nods back sadly.

“I wonder how Loki knew how many countries signed the Accords,” Romanoff says slyly.

“Observe, _my allies_ , arrogance,” Loki tells them, gesturing grandly with one hand. “I learned from the newspaper. In Australia. Thor forgot to say goodbye.”

“Aye, I did,” Thor confirms.

Barton frowns. “What were you do—”

“A story for another time,” Banner says loudly.

At the threat of an angry Hulk, everyone drops it.

With one exception. “You have _got_ to tell me what happened,” Tony pleads. “It sounds like a bad joke: Loki, Thor, and Hulk enter Australia.”

“It ends with, ‘they came out alive, and left Australia standing,’” Peter says shrugging.

“T’Challa stole all your curiosity,” Tony pronounces sadly.

“Later, Tony,” Banner says fondly.

Tony nods. “So…” He stops and his mask drops, showing his neutral face. “Are you going to be idiots about this?”

There are several sharp inhales.

T’Challa guesses they aren’t used to Tony wielding such a colorless expression, but Peter hurries to explain in a whisper, “That was… direct.” And he’s right, T’Challa realizes. It’s more in Tony’s character to insult people subtly. Maybe. T’Challa doesn’t really know, but it seems in line with what he’s heard.

Watching from the corner of his eye, T’Challa sees that Gamora heard it too. Her expression becomes even grimmer. She and Quill exchange glances.

But T’Challa is not surprised. Tony’s the same in some respects, different in others. Rhodes’ lack of response tells T’Challa that they agree.

“What do you have in mind?” Lang asks.

“Scott?!” Rogers turns on his teammate.

“Make that two people,” Loki chimes.

While Rogers and Lang huddle closer with the other three to discuss, Tony looks at Loki curiously. Maybe even a bit warningly. Loki lifts a shoulder.

“Loki doesn’t think it can be done,” Tony says quietly when he sees T’Challa looking. “Rogers just reminds him of Thor. I happen to think that we’d be better off with them on our side. Loki agrees. We disagree on the way to do it. He is overly fond of ‘divide and conquer.’”

“Makes sense,” Peter murmurs, still swinging.

“Why?” Rocket asks, not even trying to make it seem as if he’s not listening in.

“If they don’t agree, then, at least, they turn on each other and are not underfoot,” T’Challa offers.

“That and he wants to remind them that Rogers chose Barnes, to poke at the divide between Rogers and Barnes, to activate Romanoff’s survival instincts, and to engage Barton’s temper,” Tony lists. “Loki’s good at multitasking.”

“And you want them to come to a decision without meddling?” Rocket asks incredulously.

“I know Rogers.” Tony sighs. “If something even _seems_ like a manipulation, he gets stubborn about his position.”

Rocket seems to ponder Tony’s words. “His position is stupid.”

Tony makes a see-saw gesture.

“He denies Thanos, he’s stupid,” Rocket says.

“When you look at it fr—”

“I don’t care,” Rocket interrupts Tony. “I know Thanos’s coming. You say he’s coming. The Asgardians, for once, agree on something. That’s why we are here. What possible reason could we all have to make it up?”

“Make him look bad?” Peter suggests.

“That _would_ be funny,” Rocket says, opening his mouth in what T’Challa easily recognizes as a satisfied smile. “But really, would we blow ourselves for it? I mean, maybe. Some of us.  But the others would disagree, so that’s not it.”

“Rogers is suspicious of my involvement and, because of that, of everyone around me.” Tony lets out a small breath.“We were supposed to be like you, you know? A team or maybe more like a family.”He notes idly, looking briefly at Rocket’s crew and waving a hand to encompass them. “That was the goal.”

Rocket snorts, but it’s Quill who asks, “What happened?”

“We didn’t mesh,” Tony says shrugging. “There was no trust. Some had better reasons than others, but that’s what it was.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rocket demands. “Reasons? Like what?”

Tony smiles bitterly and T’Challa knows what Tony’s going to say.

“Wanda Maximoff was part of the Avengers. When she was little, her parents died in the same airstrike that left her and her twin grieving, stranded, terrified for their lives, and staring for a lot of tense hours at my name on the bomb,” Tony offers emotionlessly. “Now, I can say that doesn’t make any sense. My bombs don’t sit there for days unexploded, and I should know, the one that landed next to me didn’t have any trouble. Or I can say that we had someone who took advantage of my trust and general disinterest in my business to sell under the table, which would make it _slightly_ less my fault.”

T’Challa finds it’s very hard to look at Tony when he tells his self-loathing—because T’Challa doesn’t doubt for one second that’s what the lack of emotions hide—story, but T’Challa can’t look away either.

“But _maybe_ it wasn’t,” Tony continues. “ _Maybe_ the airstrike came from the U.S. Military that for whatever reason felt the need to attack that house or block of apartments. _Maybe_ the bomb was mine and it was sold by me. Maybe it happened _exactly_ like she accuses me it did. It’s not outside the realm of possibility. I used to be a weapons’ manufacturer and I did sell to the military.” Tony shrugs again. “She hates me. There can be no trust there. Can you blame her?”

“Yes,” Rocket answers quickly, possibly without thinking about it.

“I understand why she would think that,” Drax says slowly. “But I also know how that’s the stupid thing to do.”

Tony turns to watch Drax and the desperation—the hunger for absolution—in Tony’s gaze is painful to see. 

“My wife and daughter were killed,”Drax admits with his chin up even though it must be devastating. “Ronan did it. He was protected by Thanos. They were at fault.” He stops abruptly and seems lost in memories. “I let my thirst for revenge consume me. Foolishly, I endangered the life of my new family and of the galaxy itself. That was not right, and I, fortunately, had the opportunity to redeem myself.”

Tony looks… closed-off, but listening.

“I wasn’t right to let the world burn for my revenge, however well-deserved it may be. Hers isn’t. You didn’t attack her home,” Drax says firmly. “You feel responsible for what your weapons did. That’s your burden to bear. You… changed your ways?” At Tony’s nod, Drax goes on, “You don’t think it is enough. Nobody can or should convince you otherwise. But it’s reaching to blame you for what happened to her. I can’t blame the makers of the ships that brought Ronan, or the ones that crafted the hammer that slaughtered my wife and daughter. That would be _stupid._ ”

Silence fell on their little gathering, but it doesn’t seem to disturb Drax any.

“And then there are people like Lang, the guy that turns big, who hates me because his mentor knew my dad,” Tony finally says. “Or Wilson. The one with the wings. I draw a blank at him. Maybe jail?” He seems dubious.

“Wilson dislikes you because he follows Rogers blindly,” T’Challa can’t help himself from adding.

Rhodes huffs and shakes his head. “Idiot.”

“Can I be with Loki on this one?” Quill asks bemusedly. “Why do you need them?”

Loki sneaks in a whispered, “Thank you.”

“Because,” Tony answers. “Because we have dealt with aliens before. Because they will be believed. Because it will save me some effort and a lot of time. Because they will be out of the way.” He gestures grandly. “Pick one. Hell, make your own.”

“But you _can_ do it without them,” Gamora says suspiciously.

“Of course I can,” Tony responds as he smirks.

“He’s Tony fucking Stark,” Rhodes and Peter say in unison, laughing.

Gamora simply lifts an eyebrow, but Quill makes the most hilariously disappointed face.

“Starlord, you have some work to do,” Kraglin notes dryly.

“Who’s Starlord?” Banner asks in that innocent manner he has, but T’Challa can see him smiling.

“I am!” Quill shouts. “I am Starlord.” He pouts. It’s pretty adorable.

Tony chuckles easily and, when T’Challa turns to look at him, Tony mouths, “Awww.”

“You might want to pay attention,” Vision says quietly. It’s enough to make Tony swing to look at him. “The debate seems to have reached its end.”

Tony proceeds to lean against the tree in a completely nonchalant manner that is obviously designed to annoy. Yes, this is counter-productive to his goal. He seems to have some issues with what he’s trying to do: he is offering a hand while, at the same time, challenging them to refuse it. T’Challa can certainly understand Tony’s position: Tony wants to give them a chance even though he hasn’t forgiven them yet. And T’Challa hates that Tony has to somehow make his way through this muck before he is ready. It’s… distressing. Tony hadn’t deserved it before and he definitely doesn’t deserve it now.

But, here Tony is, struggling to make the right decision.

And for whom? For a bunch of backstabbing, so-called friends who can’t see the big picture and just blurrily gaze on the smaller one? This entire situation is a load of shit.

The only reason T’Challa doesn’t sink his claws in the tree underneath him is that the poor thing is totally innocent.

“We have decided that we’re going to take your offer,” Rogers says. His chin is up and it makes T’Challa’s eyes narrow. This can’t be all. “With several conditions,” Rogers adds. Of course.

“No conditions,” Tony dismisses. “This is not a negotiation. You have one task, to go to Heads of State and pass on the news in person. Nobody holds a gun to your head. You’ll be given a contract for the job. Read it, sign it, and you’re on.”

“We get to choose where we’re going,” Rogers stubbornly insists.

“Nobody holds a gun to your head,” Tony repeats slowly. “You will make a list with the various Heads of State you have a relationship with, either friendly or antagonistic, and people you’d like to approach.We’ll review the lists, come up with a few possible candidates, and then have you choose from those—one, all, none, or a certain number. It’s normal procedure.”

Though most of the team nods, Rogers remains suspicious. He appears to really believe that Tony has an ulterior motive. That disturbs T’Challa. It’s the sort of conviction that you can’t argue away.

“Fine,” Rogers says from behind clenched teeth.

“We expect your lists by email, deadline Friday. You’ll get the contract with the names of people we decided on in a month. The address is: plans at Stark dot org,” Tony recites, and some of the tension leaves his body.

“You’ll have it,” Rogers assures shortly.

Rogers’ team prepares to leave, when Tony adds, “Besides those who already tried and _failed_ to work with me…” He trails off slightly and smirks. Rogers, Romanoff, and Barton stiffen.  “Anyone of you who wants to join us is welcome to. That means Barnes, too.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Lang says, “I’m not sorry, guys.” He doesn’t even hesitate before crossing the clearing.

Wilson shakes his head, though he seems to be more understanding than T’Challa would have guessed, and Tony nods.

“Are you sure?” Barnes asks Tony.

“Bucky!” Rogers whisper-shouts.

At the same time, Tony answers firmly, “Yes.”

Barnes jumps down and turns to Rogers. “I have to.”

Rogers sighs. “I know,” he replies sadly and smiles gently. His focus switches to Tony. “Tak—” Rogers stops, seemingly pained. “I know you’ll take care of him.”

Tony refrains from saying anything, but nods.


	8. Chapter 8

“Now what?” Peter asks after Rogers’ team has disappeared in the forest.

“I don’t suppose sleep is on the list?” T’Challa asks as he makes himself comfortable on his bough. It’s been an eventful day. He stretches a little.

“Tired, Bagheera?” Tony asks mirthfully. 

“Mmhmm,” T’Challa confirms and smiles mischievously as he takes his helmet off. “And before you ask, pet at your risk.”

“You know I’ll take that as a challenge,” Tony warns amusedly.

“Good,” T’Challa shoots back. “It’s supposed to be therapeutic.” He smirks and shrugs. “If you don’t lose the hand. Mind you, you’d have to reach me first.”

People laugh, and Tony retorts, “Is that a height joke?” He’s smiling widely.

“It wasn’t,” T’Challa chuckles. “It was a climbing skills joke. But if you prefer to take it as a height one, who am to argue?”

“I’ll have you know that I have climbed things before, but, in this case, I already thought: ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’” Tony says, studying the tree. “So now I’m hoping nobody gets this out on the internet because this is going to be funny.”

“Want a boost, Boss?” FRIDAY asks impishly.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re doing enough giving my ego a boost, Fry.”

The tree separates in two boughs about six feet above Tony’s height. There are footholds here and there, so it’s not completely impossible to climb. That doesn’t seem to make a difference to T’Challa, who keeps watching closely, and he’s not the only one. Barnes, Peter, Vision, Loki, Rhodes, and FRIDAY are paying attention that’s on this side of alert, and Groot has a suspiciously elongated branch.

Tony, however, doesn’t have any difficulties. As far as footholds go, he does end up using one, but it’s the bark itself and not one of its knots. He makes the jump gracefully, estimating well the optimum level of effort for the distance he has to cross. Catching himself on his arms doesn’t seem to be a problem, and neither is lifting his body weight.

Very well executed.

Maybe it’s because his hardships are not visible to people that he keeps getting underestimated. Possibly even people who know forget them. But it’s not necessary to overlook what Tony went through; sometimes incredulity that all of it can happen to a single person is enough. After all, it’s a miracle he’s still alive—what more can they expect from him?

As for the others, people like T’Challa, Shuri, Loki, Peter, Groot, and so many more... People who care. Perhaps there is something in Tony that makes others protective of him, or he attracts them so much that his loss is unacceptable. He’s also kind and generous, so people being in his debt is not a possibility easily discarded. Not all beginnings have a selfless edge.

The answer evades T’Challa and, though he hopes to ponder on it later, right now he’s happy that there are people ready to catch Tony in case he falls—even from something that can’t be all that harmful.

“I stand corrected,” T’Challa admits easily, applauding lightly.

“Thank you,” Tony bows.

And with a quick pat to T’Challa’s forearm, Tony jumps back down causing a flurry of twitches with it. T’Challa extends an arm, Peter fires a web, Gamora moves forward a step, so do Barnes and Rhodes, Vision takes flight, and the earth is suddenly bouncy, thanks to Loki. Needless to say, Tony loses his footing upon landing and there’s now webbing on his shirt. He does not look impressed.

However, all Tony says is, “Better. We didn’t almost kill each other this time.”

That is, unfortunately, the best that can be said about the situation.

“Let’s hear the plan,” T’Challa says. “We’ll have some to do _some_ training together, we really do, but it would be helpful to find out what we’re dealing with here.”

“Thanos is a year and…” Tony trails off looking at Loki.

Loki picks up immediately. “Two months, five days, give or take a few hours.”

“And you know this how?” Banner asks neutrally.

“That’s what we three were working on last, and the results came in just as I teleported from Latveria,” Loki answers pleasantly enough.

Something happened with those two.

“Why don’t we call this third person here?” Quill asks.

“We need him,” Tony says with a shrug, taking a couple of steps back to see everybody better.

Loki agrees, “We needed you to agree with his presence, and to warn you against doing him harm, as he will not attack first.”

There are nods all around. Some—Rhodes—more reluctant than others. Drax, for example, doesn’t seem to care.

And, before they know it, Doom is there.

It hits T’Challa, all of a sudden—the sheer magnitude of what they are attempting. At the airport in Germany was when he saw the sheer destruction a small number of highly skilled and/or highly powered individuals could make, and, here, there are considerably more. Villains or heroes, different life-forms from the biological to the cybernetic and everything in between, T’Challa looks around him and sees the beginning. There’s so much work to do, there are so many people to organize… it seems daunting. Although T’Challa understood what the attack meant for his country, he never stopped to imagine the size of the conflict.

T’Challa feels small.

For one moment, he permits himself the privilege of being overwhelmed. For one slow blink, he is clumsy and too scared to move. For one moment he wants to run.

T’Challa breathes. In. Out.

Then the moment has passed. He remembers there’s nowhere to run, that he has the country’s faith and the Tribe’s support, and he will prevail. When he looks around him he sees the beginning as unlikely allies standing together, and that’s as perfect as it gets.

“What is the first thing on the agenda?” T’Challa asks.

“I was thinking we need to contact Lady Death,” Tony answers.

Doom starts to creak.

“Mistress,” Loki corrects seemingly on reflex. “Mistress Death.”

“Wait,” Quill pleads. “What?”

“Everything dies,” Tony says. “Thor, Loki, Strange’s dimension eating-creature…”

“My father,” Quill adds absently.

Thor turns with an inquisitive eyebrow. “Why would your father matter in this?”

“Huh?” Quill blinks. “Ah. Um, Celestials. They die too.”

Loki and Thor exchange looks.

“I guess?” Tony offers. “But Thanos was not born impervious to all harm. Nor did he obtain it somehow. Mrs. Death rejects him, and so he can’t die.”

“Mistress,” Loki insists.

Doom creaks louder.

“What are you saying?” Rocket and Peter ask at the same time. They study each other for several moments, before seemingly deciding to leave it for another time, and they both turn expectant faces to Tony.

“Thanos doesn’t just have a long life, he wasn’t cursed, he’s immortal, and, at the same time, invulnerable,” Tony says. “That’s not natural.”

“So you believe,” Doom says through alarming creaks that T’Challa finally identifies as laughter, “that it’s her fault.”

Tony nods, carefree as anything. “Goddess Death, yes.”

“Mistress,” Loki snaps.

Tony rolls his eyes.

“How do we _know_ he’s immortal?” Banner asks.

Gamora clenches her teeth. “We are reasonably certain.”

“From their efforts,” Loki offers. “That, and a lot of talking, reading, and experiments on various parts he happened to lose.”

“Is he now without those body parts?” Peter asks with a sort of horrified fascination.

Lang watches him inquisitively. “How old are you?”

“No,” Loki answers. “Death rejects him. Every part of him.”

“They found their way back to him,” Doom announces.

“Dude,” Peter whispers.

“Seriously,” Lang persists. “How old are you?”

T’Challa ignored the byplay. “How do we contact… her?”

“Well…” Doom trails off.

“We can ask her,” Loki says. “First, we have to find the person among us who has the better reason, or has killed the most people.”

“I’m above five,” Tony says.

Loki doesn’t seem impressed. “Thousand? Or hundreds of thousands?”

“My friend, I have—”

Thor is interrupted by Tony’s quiet, but firm, “Million.”

Loki’s eyebrow raises, and Thor’s mouth closes with a click.

“Gamora?” Quill mentions quietly.

“I was an assassin,” Gamora answers the implied question and shakes her head. “I have toppled countries by my actions and plunged them into war, but I do not believe it counts. Does it?” She looks in askance at Loki.

“It may,” Loki responds. “But, I fear it does not." He turns to Tony. "I suppose you feel responsible for every one of those."

"You were just doing your job, man," Lang interjects.

"It's not something that disappears from one moment to the next, though Drax gave it a good shot," Tony replies with a nod to Drax. 

"It takes time," Drax agrees. 

It’s Doom who by-passes the tension by saying, “Stark will make the request.”

And Banner is the one who follows it through. “What do we want to accomplish by this?”

“Please kill him for us?” Peter says doubtfully. “Pretty please with a pomegranate on top?”

Rocket snorts, and so does T’Challa.

“Good first try,” Tony says chuckling. “But—” He freezes.

Probably because everybody facing Tony is suddenly on alert.

Tony closes his eyes. “She’s not behind me, is she?”

She is.

Peter nods fanatically.

“Awesome,” Tony says dryly. He swings around and takes a bow. “Empress Death.”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose.

“That is not my name, child,” Mistress Death replies.

It should be a normal voice. Though it has more of an echo to it, it’s something that can easily happen with the right acoustics. It’s certainly not the ‘we are legion’ one. Even her appearance should be innocuous. She’s wearing a shapeless black cloak with a generous hood. T’Challa can’t see anything, but that includes things that shouldn’t be there. It’s just a cloak worn by somebody.

And yet.

There’s something that feels… off about her. It’s eerie, and complex, and frightening. T’Challa feels a bead of sweat making its way down his temple. His mouth is dry, but he’s too scared to swallow. He feels watched.

Is that quality really there? Or are they seeing what they want to see? Is T’Challa’s version different from others? Does the fear come from her or from whom they perceive her as? Is it a result of their own instincts that recognize a bigger predator?

As she exhales and T’Challa shivers because of it, he finds it hard to care.

“Well,” Tony says nonchalantly, hands firmly in his pockets. “Since you’re going for jump-scares now, I thought you wouldn’t mind an upgrade in titles.”

Peter chokes on an aborted snort and T’Challa feels pretty much the same.

“Acceptable, my Merchant,” Mistress Death says with a nod.

Her title makes Tony take half a step forward. “I haven’t been that in years.”

“Haven’t you?” Mistress Death sounds amused. “It certainly wasn’t a breeze that ended the life of that large Chitauri hunting pack.”

That hits Tony like a blow and he flinches hard.

“Oh, my Merchant.” Mistress Death sighs making T’Challa shudder. He’s not the only one. “That doesn’t mean you’re evil. It doesn’t mean you’re good. You’re more neutral than most.” She extends a hand. It’s a pale, deathly white, and it lands on Tony’s cheek. T’Challa doesn’t blame him for jumping.“You are like me in that way. Thus, you are my Merchant.”

There’s an odd sort of gentleness that comes across from her behavior towards Tony that T’Challa doesn’t know how to interpret.

“You’ve been listening?” Tony picks up his wits with admirable speed.

Mistress Death nods shallowly. “I often do when people mention me.”

T’Challa isn’t surprised when he’s not the only one glaring at Loki.

“As a concept, not by name,” Mistress Death continues wryly.

“How about it then?” Tony asks. “Pretty please, pomegranate included.”

“I’m not convinced.” Mistress Death shakes her head. “I do not want Thanos anywhere near me. Besides, if I did, it means he won. He gets what he wants. What sort of lesson in that? What sort of precedent does it establish? No, I’m not convinced.”

“You played yourself,” Tony spits without any ounce of sympathy.

T’Challa is sure this will lead to—

“You dare?!” Mistress Death hisses while her arm grabs Tony by the neck and lifts him.

That. It will lead to that. T’Challa totally saw this coming.

“At least he spoke this time,” Loki murmurs dryly.

“You are _not_ helping,” T’Challa snaps back.

Tony catches her arm and uses it to lift himself and ease the pressure on his throat.

That’s when it happens.

Peter pleads, “Please—”

Banner says, “He didn’t mean to disrespect—”

Rocket shouts, “Hey!”

Rhodes admits, “He’s stupid, but—”

Loki begins, “Mistress Death—”

T’Challa chooses to go with, “In his culture—”

Gamora and Barnes take a step forward.

Drax and Thor stand.

Quill exclaims, “Let’s calm do—”

Even Doom mentions, “He can’t speak wit—”

But Tony ignores them all.  “You played yourself, and you’re not the one that’s paying the price.” He’s seething. “On behalf of those who will suffer for your mistakes, I ask: What were you _thinking_?”

Mistress Death appears taken aback. T’Challa can sympathize. It’s probably the first time someone speaks to her in that tone.

“From all the options of torture and killing, for all the times you could have made him suffer, you chose the option that’s strategically guaranteed to bite you in the ass: you thought you’d stick your head in the sand. You _chose_ to make him everybody else’s problem because you couldn’t deal with him. Where the hell is your responsibility?” Tony continues to rage. “You know him. You know what he’s capable of. You know he won’t stop. And you make it so that he can’t be!” T’Challa can’t see Tony, but bets that he’s glaring for all he’s worth. “Stop letting everybody else deal with your shit. He’s _your_ problem!”

Mistress Death screams and throws Tony into the tree. Before he touches it, T’Challa is already there to soften the impact. And behind T’Challa there’s a net of webbing. And behind that, there’s suddenly moss on the tree. And behind _that_ , the wood is soft and airy.

Tony has friends.

It takes a moment or two for T’Challa to orient himself, but Tony is already railing.

“Can’t handle the truth?”

Tony keeps pressing.

“What’s so damn neutral about causing the death of entire civilizations?”

And pressing.

“Do you not answer to anyone?”

And pressing.

“Shouldn’t that mean that you should be even more careful about what ants you step on?”

And pressing.

“Your self-control should be better than that.”

And pressing.

“You should control _him,_ and instead he controls you.”

And pressing.

“Do something!”

Until…

“Fine!” Mistress of Death says firmly, and her voice makes everyone stagger. “I will take him.” She’s suddenly in front of Tony again. “But if you don’t manage to win this war, I’m going to make you _his puppet_! You will be awake to see all the abominations you build, all the misery you spread, all the lives you ruin, but you won’t be able to stop yourself,” she hisses.

Silence engulfs the clearing.

“That’s all I wanted, really,” Tony retorts, his tone calm and his hands hidden.

Mistress Death laughs. It’s haunting and all the more beautiful for it. “Let’s see you do what you do best.” She leans forward, gently putting a hand on the back of Tony’s neck, guiding him in her direction, and—though T’Challa can’t be sure—kisses Tony’s forehead. “I won’t like to see you a puppet.”

“But you’ll make me one anyway,” Tony shoots back.

“Only if you lose, my Merchant,” Mistress Death specifies. “It shall be done by tonight. Best of luck.”

Mistress Death disappears, Tony’s knees tremble in her absence, and T’Challa hurries to steady him.

“…So that happened,” Peter says shocked.

“I swear, you sound like you’re twelve,” Lang complains. “You’re not, are you?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

“You’re insane,” Barnes says. It comes off as protective and strangely fond.

“Your opinion is always welcome, you cheeky paragon of sanity you,” Tony snarks back as he leans into T’Challa.

T’Challa gets his arms around Tony. He sinks into T’Challa’s embrace, and T’Challa sighs softly. His eyes are closed in relief. They all escaped—for now—and they made some progress.

“That doesn’t make you sound better, Tones,” Rhodey quips.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Tony says brightly.

“What now?” Rhodes asks.

Loki, Doom, and Tony exchange looks.

“What?” Lang demands.

Doom starts haltingly, “We will have to look over our strategy and evaluate—”

“You have no idea,” Quill states. He’s clearly trying not to smile. “Why?”

“What we witnessed was an unexpected success,” Loki tries. “And—”

Peter laughs. It sounds baffled. “Seriously?!”

“We didn’t think that would work,” Tony admits. “So, yeah, we have to rearrange some stuff.”

T’Challa blinks and momentarily tightens his hold on Tony.

“What did you expect would happ—” Banner interrupts himself. “Don’t answer that,” he says immediately.“Is there something you do want us to do?”

“There are a couple of things,” Tony says. “But we have to get the first thing right.”

Doom nods. “Proof of Thanos’s demise.”

“The camera we worked on will aid us greatly,” Loki notes.

“Doom knew it would,” Doom says proudly.

“Because the rest of us who worked on it were convinced it wouldn’t?” Tony asks dryly.

Doom shakes his head. “You did not say it.”

“I work with people who think that ‘calling it’ is a legitimate way to get bragging rights.” Tony rolls his eyes, causing Rhodes to frown. T’Challa feels like he knows the reason for that frown. And sure enough, Tony adds, “I’m disappointed in myself, and, next time, I’ll do better.”

Banner tries to stifle a snort and does a sort of sneeze-choke that is not subtle at all.

Tony smiles, and winks at Banner, before turning to Loki, “Pick a team?”

“Thor,” Loki says to Thor’s apparent pride.

“Aren’t you his brother?” Quill asks Thor with a raised eyebrow.

Thor straightens his shoulders, tone resolute. “I shan’t let you ruin my joy.”

Quill raises his hands in a universal ‘I mean no harm’ sign.

Loki continues, “Gamora, Drax, Rocket—”

“I need Rocket,” Tony interrupts. “But less than Do—Dr. Doom.”

“Very well,” Loki says. He ponders a bit. “I am still taking Rocket.”

“Okay,” Tony accepts.

“Groot, Barnes, and Vision,” Loki finishes.

Everybody seems fine with their assignments, uncertain but fine.

“So that’s the first thing,” Peter tells Tony. “What did you want to tell us?”

“Our plans for this invasion are on three levels: attack, defensive, and getting the civilians out of the line of fire,” Doom explains in Tony’s stead. “The footage will help us with all three. However, this is a massive effort.”

“Thus, we thought of the likelihood of Midgardians believing us _and_ doing so in a timely manner,” Loki continues.

“It’s small,” Tony concludes. “We were thinking we might get people off the planet, but that’s just not possible.”

“Discussions around taking people as refugees would take years,”Doom says firmly. “Not to mention such things as: who goes first; are all seven and a half billion going in the same place; who goes where?”

“So we want the attack to be off-planet, the defensive in the skies and on the ground, and the civilians in bunkers or natural shelters,” Tony states. “That’s the plan.”

“Several aspects of which are still undecided, such as the source of sustenance for the shelters, and the warriors,” Loki reveals. “We have need of food and drink that is portable and occupies little space.”

“I can get on that,” Banner volunteers. “Maybe do some experiments on MREs coupled with Space Food, accounting for price, ingredients used, accessibility, and taste.”

Peter’s suit focusing lens widened. “Uh, can I join?”

“Sure,” Banner says and shrugs.

“Make a list of resources, human or otherwise, and send it to me,” Tony mentions. “Also, we need someone with battle experience who’s willing to teach.”

Thor opens his mouth, but he closes it when Loki hisses, “A Midgardian year.”

“I may have the solution,” T’Challa volunteers. “I’d have to find out more details then talk to them.”

Thor offers, “Asgard will be happy to test their mettle and progress at any time.”

“Great. That’s about it, for now,” Tony says thoughtfully. “Someone needs to get the Guardians settled, maybe show them the ropes a little bit.”

“I can do that,” Rhodes volunteers.

Lang nods. “I can help.”

“Lang, you have issues with your equipment,” Tony says. “They can’t go on.”

Lang hesitates, but finally accepts, “I’ll talk to Hank.”

“Talk to Hope,” Tony corrects. “And invite her. It’s her planet too.”

 Lang nods again.

“Quill, I’m going to need a stable connection to Nova Prime,” Tony asks, but it has the sound of command about it.

“Sure thing,” Quill says easily. “As soon as we’re done here.”

Tony nods. “Doom?” He turns slightly to T’Challa. “T’Challa. Do you want to join?”

“Do we have any choice?” Doom enquires.

“I’ll join,” T’Challa says, knowing it is a good opportunity to find out more information and he’ll need _more_ before he agrees to anything else.

Loki, Doom, and Tony again exchange looks, before Tony announces, “That’s it.”

“Doom will see you all again in a week,” Doom adds.

“Perfect,” Loki purrs, gathers his team, winks at Tony, and disappears with them.

T’Challa automatically growls. When Tony turns in his arms, with a smile and a raised eyebrow, T’Challa admits, “Territorial.”

In answer, Doom creaks.

*

“I understand that Thanos is leading an invasion headed towards you,” Nova Prime acknowledges. “That is unfortunate news.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony quips nonsensically.

Nova Prime frowns.

Doom, T’Challa, and Tony are in front of a holographic display of a tough, white-haired woman.

“We’ll get to that.”Tony waves his words away. “Are you going to help?”

“I do not see how I can,” Nova Prime says.

“Your ships, for example. The barrier that your pilots formed when Ronan attacked does credit to them and to you. Your defense is something we’d be interested in imitating,” Tony proposes, and T’Challa is starting to get suspicious about what’s asked of Wakanda here.

“I am sorry.” Nova Prime bows her head briefly. “That will not be possible. While we grieve for you, you must understand that my primary concern has to be the citizens of our Empire. I cannot in good conscience order them to head for Terra.”

Tony glares. “That’s it?”

“I beg your pardon?” Nova Prime asks, probably insulted.

“Is that your reason for refusing?” Tony sneers.

Nova Prime lifts her chin. “Of course.”

“Then we’ll either take two ships that I’m allowed to crack open, or two million.” Tony smirks. “No pilots needed.”

Taken aback, Nova Prima nonetheless pushes through. “Why would I do that?”

“It is in your interest,” T’Challa says, catching on to what Tony was doing. “Think of the cost your empire will have to pay to accommodate seven and a half billion refugees.”

“Not to mention your being the new focus of Thanos’ attention,” Doom offers.

“Luckily, Thanos is out,” Tony says nonchalantly. “And he’s dead if we win.”

Nova Prime pales. “What?”

“You’re welcome?” Tony smiles savagely. “You’re stuck playing catch up.”

Nova Prime swallows, but says, “I would appreciate more details.”

“You’ll have the proof, no details. Here’s the deal,” Tony asserts. “You could help us, help you. Or…”

“Seven and a half billion refugees,” T’Challa says as prompted.

Doom follows. “Deal with Thanos yourselves.”

“ _If_ there is proof, the two million ships will arrive in increments.” Nova Prime clenched her teeth. She took a deep breath and smiled. “We are deeply thankful to Terra for managing to delay such a powerful enemy and, as such, we are happy to honor our newly formed pact of _military_ assistance. Furthermore, we are in awe of your bravery in refusing to abandon your planet for the shelter we were willing to provide. If that is your decision, we wish you the best of luck.”

Tony smirks. “I knew you’ll see it my way.”

“We’ll be in contact,” Nova Prime says dryly.

“That went well,” Doom claims, and T’Challa doesn’t detect any sarcasm.

But…

“Is your goal to piss off everybody in order to obtain whatever you want?” T’Challa asks Tony hesitantly. “It’s clearly successful, I’m just curious.”

“Yep.” Tony smiles widely. “That and ‘make them rich’ have been shown to work best for me.”

T’Challa finds he has nothing to say to that, so changes the subject. “Why did you want me here?”

“We’d like your help,” Tony says.

T’Challa nods and waits.

“What do you know about the computers on this ship?” Tony asks.

T’Challa blinks, totally derailed from his thoughts.“Nothing.” He never seriously considered Tony wanting vibranium, but it somehow remained floating in his mind enough for Tony’s tangent to throw him.

Doom’s contribution to the conversation is one of his creaky laughs.

“It’s hexadecimal based,” Tony explains. His eyes fly to Doom. “More complicated than ours, sure, but it’s got nothing on yours.”

“Doom knows it’s based on fractal probabilities, Stark,” Doom says dryly. “The problem is that Doom doesn’t know more than that.”

“I’ve never encountered a problem that concerned me less,” Tony responds. He addresses T’Challa saying, “We need your super-powered firewalls because they have magic and we got magic so we’re set on that front, but we binary based people might be a bit behind on the technological one. They manage to hack these ships regularly, and we can’t have that.”

T’Challa needs to think about this. “Two million firewalls?”

“Of course not,” Doom answers.

“Those are just the loans,” Tony quips. “That’s why Doom’s here.”

T’Challa narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“My programmers are tied up,” Tony offers. “His aren’t.”

Creaky laughter permeates the air, and T’Challa is unimpressed.

“I don’t need his programmers.” T’Challa maintains his dignity with difficulty. “I need your AIs.”

The creaking abruptly stops. T’Challa offers Doom his best smile. It mainly consists of teeth.

“Didn’t I try that one before?” Tony sounds uncertain. Tony. Uncertain. When T’Challa turns to Tony with dread weighing in T’Challa’s stomach, he finds Tony frowning. “I don’t—I know I wanted to try, and then the public opinion was against AIs after that.” He blinks, looking confused.“I tried it and destroyed Sokovia in the process.”

A shiver runs down T’Challa spine. He forgot. Tony seems fine, so T’Challa… for a moment, just… Although he knew the problems Tony had, T’Challa _assumed_ that Tony remembered Ultron. It seemed impossible for him not to. Why? And better yet… Why would Tony _remember_?

T’Challa says through numb lips, “You didn’t.”

At the same time as Doom says, “That was a different matter.”

“I—we?—I don’t know the whole story,” T’Challa starts.

“Stark doesn’t share, Doom is similarly in the dark,” Doom says.

“But the official story, the story that Governments had and not civilians, was that an alien artifact was combined with and, ultimately housed in, your robots to create a peacekeeping armada. Only something went wrong and Ultron emerged,” T’Challa explains. “Somehow, the opinion that you were the one to initialize and support the plan, that you were fearful and thus implemented it wrong emerged. Although I didn’t see any proof of that, except that there were your robots, you didn’t offer an alternative explanation.”

_“What?”_ Tony asks. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

T’Challa finds himself sharing a lost look with Doom. Of all people. Doom. T’Challa doesn’t know how he got here, but these things never used to happen to him. Both his and Doom shoulders start rising before they stop abruptly.

“I’m sorry we can’t be more helpful,” T’Challa says apologetically. “What we also know for sure is that your AI protected the world by not allowing Ultron access to the nuclear codes. I trust your work and I trust your AIs.”

Doom nods. “Well said. Doom feels the same.”

But T’Challa can see that Tony isn’t convinced.

*

T’Challa is up to date with the kind of creatures that need to be trained—AIs, with backup memories on Friday’s server—and he has Tony’s assurance that they won’t touch Earth. Although T’Challa doesn’t need it, Tony seems to feel better giving it so T’Challa doesn’t stop him. Either way, they’re done by the time Loki’s back with the first batch of footage.

The video is frightening. Going by what Loki says, that he needs two more days to get the entirety of the army and its’ resources, it could be worse. It will be. What is more, Thanos’ disappearance and his _scream_ threaten to paralyze them all. Mistress Death continues to confuse and horrify.

But the fact that they get it when they do is a very good because by the time the footage is edited T’Challa might stop wanting to burst into hysterical laughter. Telling Shuri about the AI training will probably go over all right. But, Shuri isn’t the only one in charge of training. Telling M’Baku will probably be hilarious, frustrating, sad, violent, or all of the above. T’Challa snorts.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks T’Challa while directing FRIDAY in editing the video. “Yeah, louder.”

T’Challa shivers as he hears Thanos’ scream again and answers, “Shuri and M’Baku deal with the training in Wakanda.”

“The less footage we have of Mistress Death the better,” Tony says absently. “Wait.” A smirk slowly appears on his face. “No, Fry, not you.” He turns to T’Challa completely. “Is there another M’Baku?”

“That is in charge of training?” T’Challa may have giggled. “No.”

Tony snorts. “Good luck.”

They are going to have a busy year, but this week is going to be especially so. Under Wakanda’s security, Tony is planning on organizing an emergency meeting with every country leader and their deputies in a week’s time, and, in order to get people’s attention, he is going to share the edited footage with them. Tony’s team will take over once he does the final presentation, but, to get the wheels moving, there will be several days of meetings, via the internet or otherwise. And speaking of meetings, T’Challa is going to have his own.

Also, Mantis will be there for the conference call. She’s harmless looking, yet still obviously non-human. The rest of her team, Rhodes, Lang, Banner, and Peter were going along so she could catch a flight back to the Compound, and also so she wouldn’t be left alone with odd people that giggle for seemingly no reason.

“That’s done,” Tony announces and claps. “Thank you!”

FRIDAY sounds fond and amused when she says,“You know it, Boss.”

“You must have some sort of mind-control abilities,” Tony says, and when T’Challa looks at him, Tony seems to be addressing Mantis. “Right? All the ones that appear delicate but are oddly confident do. That or magic. There’s something that makes you dangerous.”

“Oh.” Mantis bushes.

Loki appears suddenly, making T’Challa jump. “Thank you!” Loki croons proudly.

“I meant the stone,” Tony defends. T’Challa doesn’t believe him, and it appears Loki doesn’t either. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“I am exactly where I need to be.” Loki pouts innocently. “If I happen to leave a hook with my ally and he happens to think about me, can I be blamed for sending a copy along?”

Honestly, T’Challa doesn’t see it. He tries to, but he can’t. Loki isn’t delicate as much as…

“You are wickedly hot,” Tony shoots back. “Delicate? Not so much.”

Exactly. T’Challa nods to Tony’s delight. And Loki… He seems pleased and surprised. A smirk appears to cover his more vulnerable expression.

“What are the chances that Doom will forget we’re allies?” Tony idly asks, apparently nonsensically, but Loki’s smirk widens as he winks and he disappears.

“Do I want to know?” T’Challa enquires. He has a bad feeling about this.

“What you are guessing right now? The thing that makes you react as you do? The reason for that incredulous expression?” Tony chuckles. “That inkling is right.”

Loki and Doom are together. Not the oddest thing T’Challa heard. In fact, not nearly the weirdest thing he heard today. It’s unexpected, sure, but it’s not like T’Challa gave it any thought.

“I am an empath,” Mantis says quietly and shyly. Right, because Tony asked her. “I can read and influence emotions.”

Tony blinks and huffs. “Didn’t it work with Warlock?”

“No.” Mantis shook her head. “He had powerful shields. It is not the first time we met.”

“How do your abilities work?” T’Challa asks curiously.

Mantis smiles. “I can show you—”

Both Tony and Quill jump from their seats, but nothing is happening.

Tony freezes, but Quill shouts, “Don’t!”

“You love him,” Mantis says dreamily. She looks towards Tony. “Completely.” She closes big brown eyes, and shivers. “Romantically. Platonically. Aesthetically. Sexually. Rationally. It feels nice. Warm. And so many others, them not romantically, but so strongly.”

“We discussed this,” Quill says as he gestures widely. “It’s not polite to say people’s desires out loud. And it’s even less to read their emotions without them saying you can. Do we really need to have this discussion again? Because we’re going to.”

“While those are things you should remember, in this instance, no harm was done.” T’Challa smiles. “Tony knows.” T’Challa never explicitly said it, but he is certain he isn’t wrong.

“I do,” Tony adds. “And I…” He hesitates, looks at her questioningly and, as she nods, brings his hand to her forearm.

Mantis sighs happily. “You love him too.”

“And I know,” T’Challa says. “But, like Quill said, consent is important.”

Tony keeps his hand where it is. “If that doesn’t sound like a big deal, next time think of it like I felt when someone was in my head uninvited.” He closes his eyes.

Mantis gasps. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Someone who thought she had reason to,” Tony answers. “I got better, but the memory remains.”

“I see,”Mantis whispers.

“You have one hell of an ability,” Banner says as Tony takes his hand back. “I don’t understand how you are still sane.”

“Oh.” Mantis brightens. “I can control it. And my species stores emotions differently than yours.”

T’Challa is curious, and he’d like it stated for the record that the English idiom about cats is dumb. “How so?”

“I sort through them easily, so they don’t overwhelm me. Putting them away after receiving them is not an effort, and I can choose one emotion to concentrate on when the person feels several,” Mantis says. She’s smiling widely. “I also have a better resistance than yours, so it takes more emotional pain to harm me. And when I use it on others my tendency is to calm, and invoke sleep, not any negative emotion.”

Banner mumbles something about adaptive traits, while T’Challa says, “I see.”

“If it ever gets overwhelming though, feel free to let us know,” Tony mentions. “We have rooms made specifically to relax at the Compound. Rhodey will show them to you.” Tony makes eye contact with his friend. “Don’t fall asleep in the tub. Don’t drown. Don’t swim, either. There are pools for that.”

“He speaks from experience,” Rhodes declares.

“Yep,” Tony admits easily. “Rhodey’s.”  



	10. Chapter 10

Since T’Challa landed with extraterrestrial beings, and Chaushiku and Ochieng assured the secure line to the country leaders from all over the world, T’Challa feels like the general consensus to his confirmation that the invasion is happening is,‘d’oh.’

Under the influence of Tony’s opening line to the leaders of the world, T’Challa finds himself saying, “Tony Stark told us.” He closes his eyes, and tries again, “I have heard that sentence a lot in the last day or so, not that it wasn’t deserved, but it got stuck in my head. I apologize, and I have footage.”

*

Tony catches T’Challa as he prepares to enter a meeting with Shuri and M’Baku. “I have to show you something, and Loki asks if he could spend a couple of hours here under my supervision. The first one is not urgent, but the second one most definitely is.”

T’Challa blinks but gamely forges on. “What happened?”

“He got a guy back.”

That doesn’t clear anything for T’Challa. “Why can’t he go to Latveria?” He was about to say New York, but he remembered just in time that Loki tried to wipe it off the map. That would have been awkward.

“Doom hovers.”

T’Challa blinks again. No. Nope, he isn’t going to have that discussion. “Can he be here in the next five minutes?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Contact him.” T’Challa smirks. “You’re joining me to the meeting.”

Loki appears. One second he’s not there. And then he is. Luckily, T’Challa has experience with Nareema and only jumps a little. It’s too much of a reaction for Loki who has a wicked grin on his face. But then he wobbles, and both Tony and T’Challa hurry to support him.

“Through this door.” T’Challa gestures lightly to it. “Do you need medical assistance? What happened?”

Shuri and M’Baku stand up, and M’Baku comes closer.

“Let me, runt,” M’Baku drawls patronizingly.

Tony doesn’t show any intention of doing anything of the sort. “Ah, words of love.”

M’Baku rolls his eyes.

“Sitting down on the mat,” Tony narrates.

Loki starts, “I do not—”

But Tony isn’t having it. “You are going to sit down on the mat before you fall over and leave me in a position to call Victor _with a c_.”

“You cannot contact him,” Loki complains even as he sits down.

“I will pinch you,” Tony threatens. 

Loki clenches his jaw, and says mulishly, “It’s not enough for the protection rune to activate.”

“Yes, it is.” Tony looks around. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, Stark. You have my gratitude.” Loki pouts. “And you too, King T’Challa. I do not need medical assistance, just time.”

“What happened?” T’Challa asks for the third time and will continue to do it until he receives a satisfying answer.

“A… _person_ tortured me,” Loki says, his chin is up and his smirk is in place. “He’s one of Thanos’ generals. I stole his memories. He lived a long time and it takes a while for them to assimilate.”

That is certainly an answer.

“Seems just,” M’Baku says, and exchanges nods with Loki.

T’Challa is surrounded by villains. And, well, he does admit he sees the appeal to it. He sees it very clearly. But, putting aside his failing morality with a sigh, he tries to get the meeting back on track.

“Because Wakanda is so heavily involved in the Global Defense against the invasion, I asked the leaders of the world to sign an Accord of Non-Interference in our affairs, now or in the future,” T’Challa explains. So far the reaction is as expected: the both of them nod, pleased that the world’s meddling will not affect them. “The response was positive pending our delivery of the products.”

Both Shuri and M’Baku wait attentively.

“The first part of the agreement, if we choose to honor it, is the construction of firewalls along with Tony’s AIs,” T’Challa says. “The second part will be the training of other AIs. This is where you come in. They will need to fight and it will be our obligation to show them how. How do you respond?”

“It’s going to be so much _fun_!” Shuri exclaims.

At the same time, M’Baku says loudly, “We’re going to train… what now?”

Shuri rounds on him. “Artificial Intelligence,” she says slowly, insultingly.

M’Baku stays firm. “Like hell I will.”

“Why not?” Shuri questions. “And I want arguments. None of the ‘but technology,’ crap you usually sprout.”

“How about they’re not human?” M’Baku shoots back.

T’Challa leans back and lets them duke it out.

From T’Challa’s right, Tony exclaims in a low voice, “That’s not English.”

“It’s Wakandan.” T’Challa frowns. “You understand them?”

Before Tony can answer, Loki says, “It is the All-Speak spell I cast on you. Should be good for about a month. You did not actually imagine that Nova Prime speaks English, did you?”

Actually, T’Challa thought…

“I thought _she_ was using All-Speak,” Tony defends. T’Challa silently agrees, and Tony continues, “Isn’t it like _a thing_ in space?”

“Hardly.” Loki seems amused, but, then again, when doesn’t he? “It is generally found in Asgard, and more rarely along the realms of the World Tree. I cast it on the participants of the meeting.”

“That is good information to have.” Tony nods. “Even eventually.” He glares at Loki without any heat.

Loki, shrugs nonchalantly—a bit too nonchalantly to be believed and that seems to satisfy Tony—and addresses T’Challa, “It seems to me that you are what one might call a lazy king.” He smirks and nods at the pair arguing. “Letting others do your work for you.”

“I am a king,” T’Challa says with a snort. “I know the dangers of overextending oneself. If I insist on being a part of every discussion, debate, and decision I would burn out. Wakanda would have an exhausted ruler who is not capable of trusting his own people enough to delegate. That will not be me.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his smile saying he is pleasantly surprised.

“That makes one of you,” Tony observes wryly.

“No,” T’Challa denies. “That makes three of us.” He gestures to Shuri and M’Baku. “Shuri is the leader of the Doras and M’Baku is the Chieftain of his own Tribe. Now is when they should debate, but they do delegate other smaller matters. And I have seen Tony beginning to do that so. I _know_ he plans to leave certain aspects to other people.” He shrugs. “The circumstances themselves might be to blame. We were raised like this. Maybe you were not.”

“Indeed. You are perfectly right—I was not raised like this.” Loki looks thoughtful. “However, would you not raise your Prince like this? How about your Crown Prince?”

T’Challa pauses before he answers as this is clearly a bigger pile of shit that he originally thought. “I cannot speak for other cultures, but I would,” he states, a little on the formal side because he’s careful about not stepping on any toes.

Loki nods firmly, and T’Challa’s attention returns to the debate.

Shuri’s winning. She has all the right arguments, she knows how to order them for maximum impact, and M’Baku can’t hope to hide his own fascination with the subject matter. Still, he belongs to a group of people and his arguments reflect those people’s opinion. He does a decent enough job, but T’Challa can see how this would end. And sure enough…

“We have decided,” Shuri claims.

“What is your response?” T’Challa asks formally, prompting a rise in the level of tension.

“I will,” Shuri answers in the same manner.

M’Baku bows his head. “I will.”

“So be it,” T’Challa decides. His word is law, and once the statement is said the tension is dispelled.

 Loki frowns as he looks around.

“Tony.” T’Challa turns slightly. “Did you want anyone else present for your showing?”

Tony studies the people in the room. “All of them. And I think your mother too. For the ending, definitely, but from the beginning to be able to make an informed decision.”

T’Challa is curious and suspicious as he nods to Shuri to contact their mother. Shuri gets to it, while M’Baku settles down again, waiting and watching. Loki doesn’t appear to know what’s next either, so he follows M’Baku’s example.

“She can come now,” Shuri announces.

T’Challa confirms with Tony that he is able to show them now, before T’Challa answers, “Ask her to join us.”

It takes five more minutes, a round of greetings, and then Tony starts.

“Recently, I discovered footage, unknown to the public, that puts certain events in a different light,” Tony says and signals play.

They see a desperate Tony convincing Banner to help him build a solution to the upcoming invasion. His intention is to incorporate the organic brain Tony discovered into his technology. Both work on that for several days, but they don’t get anywhere. They give up. Tony looks crushed. Then something happens. All the Wakandans in the room and Loki lean forward to see a flash, and then a discussion between AIs.

Tony stops the video hurriedly. “And then I lost a friend.” He takes a deep breath. “I remembered wanting to try the Ultron project, and then I remembered the public reaction to AIs. It was easy to reach the conclusion that it was a very bad idea. I have them all the time.” He shrugs. “But then you told me that I made a mistake because I was scared.”

T’Challa feels an instinctive need to defend himself but keeps quiet, not wanting to interrupt.

“Remember the conditions for Mark I.” Tony frowns. “Actually you might not know that either. I was hooked up to a car battery, tortured, and threatened. Or Mark II. I was afraid to take showers, aware of what I unleashed in the world, and paranoid. Or discovered the new element. I was dying and feeling like it.” He takes a deep breath. “When it’s all on the line, I _focus_.”

Tony lays it out so simply as if everything doesn’t need some hours of meditation to correctly absorb. As if he’s blissfully unaware that T’Challa is horrified. And Tony shouldn’t deal with that, it’s T’Challa’s problem, but it still amazes him how Tony can stand up and admit those things like they wouldn’t cripple any man.

T’Challa just slightly doesn’t manage to gloss over Tony’s point: that he’s not likely to break under pressure. It’s not that surprising. In fact, it’s more believable than the alternative.

What takes more time are the numerous questions and comments that suddenly crowd his mind. Among other, less important thoughts like ‘how can anyone not respect Tony,’ or ‘that’s why he says he’s Iron Man,’ and even ‘I wish I were hugging him right now,’ there are two prevalent ones. The first that says, ‘But Banner was there too. Even if you didn’t know about everything else, why did you take the fall?’ And the second: ‘Don’t your teammates know you at all? Why didn’t they defend you?’ He understands the complications to the PR of the Avengers if they made their statements public, but that still doesn’t excuse them from making them to the Governments.

“Maybe I suddenly forgot how to work with AIs.” Tony’s face shows his skepticism. “I decided to check. These are from the time I got tired of my AI being taken offline. Eventually, there were strong enough firewalls to make me believe that they won’t be necessary. I was wrong, but apparently, I kept several angles.” He gestures helplessly. “You see a flash. Thor was messing around, so maybe that’s why. Maybe it’s the stone, but that doesn’t explain how Vision exists. He’s calm, analytical… Thor even called lightning with him too. I have this theory that maybe it was something else.”

“It was Thanos,” Loki says.

“Yeah, I was getting to that,” Tony replies.

“No.” Loki shakes his head. “From the Other’s memories. It was Thanos.”

Tony frowns and tries to hide his hopefulness, but he isn’t successful.

“You made him… mad,” Loki says haltingly, but with a shadow of a smirk. “He swore revenge. So he tried to get to your planet through the stone. It is called the Mind Stone, one of the Infinity Stones. You, and your friends, foiled that. He didn’t manage to kill you. Or the planet. To make it worse, you found a way to use the Stone. At that point, he decided to come himself.” He winces. “I may… be able to… ah! Here it is!”

And just like Tony’s video, images start to appear: the other—the Other?—saying the wanting to kill heroes means to court death and Thanos’ smile; Thanos reaching the stone that was still connected to him; and finally Thanos deciding that he’s going to take care of things himself.

“Huh,” Tony says, and it somehow sounds vindicated. “Are you okay?” he asks Loki.

“Yes,” Loki answers with a surprising smile that disappears as quickly as it came. “I am fine.”

But Tony wanted something or else there would be no reason to show the video to everybody. So, T’Challa asks, “And what were you going to say after that theory was laid out?”

Tony licks his lips. “I want Zemo to analyze their army’s movements.” He swallows discreetly.

T’Challa’s mind is again whirring. The first response that comes to mind is an instinctive and resounding:  _No._ No, just no.

But he’s more than his instincts, he always was. Instead, he focuses on what Tony is really saying. He’s not suggesting taking Zemo out of jail. He’s definitely not proposing releasing him. He’s saying, ‘Let’s use him.’

And once T’Challa sees it in those terms the ‘why’ of the matter become obvious. Here is a man who dredged for two years through hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of documents in his determination. He had a plan. He followed through. Everything laid out just so.

T’Challa can definitely see a use for him. And Zemo would agree if he finds out about Ultron, but he’s not going to believe it coming from Tony. Zemo hates him with a passion that surpassed rationality a long time ago. T’Challa would have to talk to him.

Can T’Challa do that? Can he convince the man that so callously, so impersonally, killed his father? Can T’Challa ask him for help?

Yes.

Because T’Challa won’t be asking for help. That is not what this is. Like Tony with Rogers, T’Challa is going to offer him an opportunity. And like Tony, T’Challa is convinced he—they—will succeed regardless.

Why not use Zemo then? It means less effort for them. Someone will have to check his work, of course, but that’s nothing compared to actually doing it.

Shuri is looking at him. Probably expecting him to react, and do it vehemently. She is always the level-headed one, she doesn’t seem so when talking to her, but he’s the one whose temper shines through his actions. His father used to say that T’Challa was calm on the outside and Shuri was calm on the inside. Like in most things, T’Chaka was right.

Ramonda is calm. She made her peace with her husband’s death, in a way that T’Challa and Shuri can only hope to—completely and serenely. To his mother, Zemo is nothing, and the most important part is T’Chaka’s loss. But just because T’Challa understands the process, doesn’t mean he can replicate it. His father’s death will always hurt, and, though he can feel his acceptance of the event widen a bit more day to day, it’s a lengthy process. The children are different than the mother in this and Ramonda _is_ calm because to her, Zemo means nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do to change that fact, so to her, the whole discussion is irrelevant.

“We will have to get him temporarily transported here,” T’Challa decides after some time has passed. “There shouldn’t be any problems.”

Tony is taken aback but nods.

“You want to bleed him dry,” Ramonda observes smoothly.

T’Challa isn’t surprised by the level of spite that rises in him.“I will probably stop when he doesn’t remember his name.” Is this how Tony felt?

“Probably,” Shuri repeats.

Shuri and T’Challa exchange predatory grins.

“Yes,” T’Challa confirms. “Probably.”

Loki cackles, one corner of Tony’s mouth keeps twitching, and M’Baku smiles fondly.

“Are we done?” T’Challa asks.

“If I may?” M’Baku says. “I think there might be an aspect of this that you overlooked, my King.”

That doesn’t sound good. T’Challa invites M’Baku to open a new subject, “What would that aspect be?”

“You took their King,” M’Baku remarks. “If I were them, I’d take yours.” He frowns and corrects, “Ours.” He stops, his frown deeps as he starts again, “But not yo—” He closes his eyes. “You understand what I meant.”

There are a few moments of silence while everyone stops and thinks it over because leaving aside his hilarious phrasing, which M’Baku still seems disturbed about, he has a point.

“Especially,” M’Baku notes, “if he was so… omnipotent. Morale within his army must be low.”

“His army is compounded of people either brainwashed enough or cruel enough to _actually_ destroy worlds. Morale has very little to do with it, as long as he is quickly replaced,” Loki pipes up. “However, you are right. That is what I would do too. Perhaps Thanos’ disappearance will have more of an impact than I expect, perhaps we should think about what impact would such an attack have on us, or perhaps from one derives the other. It is certainly better to be prepared.”

“Who are we thinking about?” Tony asks suspiciously.

“You,” Shuri answers brightly.

“That’s what I suspected, but I’m not our only king,” Tony warned.

Shuri doesn’t seem convinced. “Really?”

“I’m just being modest, I like to fish in the afternoon, it’s the perfect time for all the best compliments,” Tony says dryly. “Yes, there are three kings. One to gather.”

Loki stands up and bows elegantly with a mocking smile.

“One to protect,” Tony continues.

“Victor—with a c—van Doom,” T’Challa quips and Shuri chokes.

“And one to build,” Tony finishes. “Taking out any of them would have a serious impact. That being said, I’m almost done building, and my AIs can take over to complete my work.”

“You are ignoring the morale aspect,” M’Baku shoots back. “And to us, it is important.”

“Besides, whom did Thanos have a grudge on?” Shuri asks.

“Awesome,” Tony mumbles.

“If you decide to launch such an attack, and you risk a lot doing it so it probably won’t happen twice, why wouldn’t you hit the target that is an acknowledged hero, screwed Thanos over, and shows that you did what Thanos couldn’t?” Shuri persists. “Look down… further down, you’ll see our morale.”

Tony grumbles.

“I’ll take him into the wild,” M’Baku announces cheerfully.

“I’m not your Jane!” Tony yelps.

“If you think about it, it’s not the worst idea,” T’Challa volunteers. Then he thinks it over one more time. “But it’s a pretty bad one.” He shrugs in response to M’Baku’s glare. “It really is. That doesn’t mean that we could use the time to search some more, maybe find you a bodyguard.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. “A crazy one. Somebody who doesn’t mind being the laughing stock of the world for being Iron Man’s bodyguard, and, at the same time, doesn’t have anything to lose.”

“You seem to warm up to the idea,” M’Baku preens.

“To a part of the… _idea_ , you called it? You’re overselling it.” Tony smirks. “But sure, there’s this guy. A prolific mercenary and he got a strong healing factor so he met Queen Death. She fell for him, he’s a funny guy, but Thanos found out and cursed the guy, Deadpool, with immortality. He’s not coping well. Last I heard he was in New York, but he’s Canadian. He travels.” Tony shrugs. “And Deadpool’s good, not sane, but he’s unpredictable, probably because of the aforementioned problems with sanity, skilled, and would do anything to get rid of the curse. For that, Thanos has to be dead, right?”

“Yes,” Loki confirms.

Tony nods. “I just have to find him.” He closes his eyes with a sigh. “ _Someone_ just has to find him. Not me. Because I have to lay low. If I get out of this without somebody backstabbing me, I’ll be _amazed._ ”

“And that’s a great reason to spend some time in the wild,” M’Baku says. “You get to know me, find out I’m trustworthy. No backstabbing.”

“T’Challa has a story about you making attempts on his life that he won’t tell….” Tony trails off, complete with a raised eyebrow.

“It wasn’t backstabbing,” M’Baku dismisses. “He was staring straight at me.”

“So we’re leaning more towards reenacting every horror movie that’s placed in a forest,” Tony replies. “And calling it ‘trust.’”

“How about calling it ‘test?’” M’Baku pinned Tony with his eyes. “I’m not Panther Tribe anymore, but I was, and a Tribe leaves their fingerprint, whether it’s clearer or more faded. In my case, it’s _crystal_ clear. T’Challa is my King, my Chieftain, and was the Tribesman who influenced my life the most—I’m sure going to make sure someone he loves so much deserves him.”

Tony clenches his jaw and doesn’t blink. He opens his mouth, and T’Challa can’t stand it anymore. He has to speak.

“No.” T’Challa didn’t mean to say it like that. He didn’t mean to make the windows vibrate. But he’s not sorry it did. “Tony isn’t going to be tested.” When M’Baku moves his gaze, T’Challa is free to make eye contact with him. “He’s passed all the tests any rational person can come up with. Leave him alone, and respect my decision.”

M’Baku’s expression turns sour, but his eyes lower.

“Some time off might do you good, Tony,” Ramonda says in the tense silence that settles in the room. “Without the pressure of tests or being shunned from civilization, say, after you do the final presentation.It could be an opportunity to take a fortifying breath of fresh air and being out of reach for people wanting to talk about some minor detail. You can take as many Doras as you think necessary, a bead bracelet, and you can come back anytime. It’s your choice. I believe you deserve it.” She smiles gently. “How does that sound?”

Tony tilts his head. “Good,” he says considering. He smiles slightly. “I’ll have to talk to Zorex, see what they think about it, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t agree. It sounds good.”

“That’s decided then,”Ramonda says, looking at Tony fondly.

Tony grins back.

“Who are you taking?” Shuri asks as she turns towards him ready to make suggestions.

Tony grin slips into a smirk. “M’Baku.”

T’Challa knew this answer was coming. He was _absolutely_ sure. In fact, he was more uncertain about how to spell his name than Tony’s response.

M’Baku’s eyes narrow. Good. That’s the way to treat Tony’s smirks. M’Baku’s learning.


	11. Chapter 11

Shuri ducks under a branch. “Why ‘Victor with a c?’”

“Tony’s mind works in strange ways.” T’Challa chuckles. “He met a lot of people, he used to travel a lot, still does, so he realized a pattern: the naïve Victors were written with a ‘c,’ and the manipulative ones were written with a ‘k.’ Doom broke the pattern and Tony is still pouting about that. I’m just teasing Tony.”

Shuri laughs. “Sounds like him.”

They are on their way to recover Tony and M’Baku—or as Shuri says, what’s left of them—from where they disappeared two weeks ago with a bead bracelet. T’Challa made the decision that he’s going after them rather than call them back since he’s in need of a break and he’ll admit to being curious how they fared. Shuri says she’s just along for the entertainment value but she needs a breath as much as T’Challa.

Deadpool or Wade Winston Wilson was easy enough to find, eager to work for the right price, delighted to be the one to asked to protect Tony, ecstatic to be in on the invasion with his favorite heroes, and gratified to the point of speechlessness when he heard about Thanos. T’Challa can’t be sure, but he has a feeling that Wilson will protect Tony from anything beginning with a strong breeze to a bomb. That means that Wilson—Wade—has T’Challa’s approval and the right to use each other’s given names. So Wade was an easy sell and is currently waiting not-so-patiently back at the palace in the company of Teela, Nareema, and Daraja. 

Zemo wasn’t that hard to convince either. In the end, it took more time figuring out how to get Loki’s memories on an electronic device than it did persuading Zemo. Over five years had passed since he enacted his plan against the Avengers with no regard for people’s lives—T’Challa’s father among them—and his rage reignited like it never left. He took T’Challa’s offer a lot more easily than did Rogers with Tony’s. That still disturbs T’Challa.

“What the…?” Shuri trails off in amazement as she looks around.

T’Challa agrees. They have a thatched hut. With a chimney. Pans, pots, knives, bows, arrows… there’s even an oven. Is that an oven?

“What happened here?” Shuri asks loudly. “Tony? M’Baku?”

“We’ve come to rescue you,” T’Challa says impishly.

“We’re here.” Tony’s voice comes from the other side of the hut. “We’re alive.”

“Only barely,” M’Baku adds. “T’Challa, you have chosen wisely once again. As long as you remember to not let him cook, everything’s all right.”

“It was one time!” Tony yelps.

T’Challa and Shuri exchange amused glances, as they turn the corner to find M’Baku desolately shaking his head.

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” M’Baku mumbles.

“You just did.” Tony gestures widely.  “I didn’t—”

M’Baku gestures right back. “How could you flambé it like that? It was good meat.”

“I didn’t see the—”

M’Baku interrupts Tony, complaining, “There were _coals_ , there wasn’t even a flame, and then… _whoosh_.”

“—the pebbles. It was an honest mistake,” Tony adamantly continues.

M’Baku doesn’t let go. “And hunting?”

“That was intentional,” Tony admits. “I was mistaken about the—”

“You blew up the poor animal!” M’Baku shouted.

Tony opens his mouth only to close it a moment later. “That I did,” he mumbles. “But on the whole, it’s not so bad.”

“It wouldn’t have been if I’d known that you have thousands of ways of igniting and exploding shit!” M’Baku still hasn’t calmed down.

Tony offers him a sweet smile, which M’Baku receives with suspicion written clearly in his expression.

“You learned,” Tony says.

“I had to,” M’Baku replies slightly hysterical. “It was adapt or _die_.”

“Congratulations,” Tony offers. “You adapted.”

“I wasn’t going to die at the hands of an American,” M’Baku scoffs.

‘American,’ that is barely an insult. T’Challa is impressed. M’Baku could have picked a number of invectives ranging from Tony’s work with technology to his physical weakness compared to M’Baku. They could have gone through them already, but T’Challa thinks that it is evidence of something else.

“Half-Italian,” Tony shoots back. “And I kept you from suffering from the cold. I built us a hut. Pots, pans… everything you asked for. You could stand to see my good points here.”

“I didn’t need them.” M’Baku turns to T’Challa and Shuri. “ _This_ is what you never said. You can’t—no matter how much you try—stop somebody from inventing the little things that make life comfortable. Then it’s like an infection, or a virus… or _a contagion_. Next thing you know, you’re sick too and you find yourself asking for a handle to your mug because you burned your fingers.” He’s practically seething.

“We have heated flooring, I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Tony says, making it seem like he completely missed M’Baku’s point, but Tony’s lips keep tugging up and his eyes are crinkled in glee.

“We do,” M’Baku says desolately. “That we do.” He sighs. “My report: he is overenthusiastic at hunting… He is haunting. The point is to eat the damn thing not to wipe it out of _existence_.”

And since M’Baku is obviously getting worked up again, Shuri unravels it cleanly. “Gathering?” she asks.

“Bad.” M’Baku shakes his head. “It was the only thing I predicted that came true. He doesn’t know any flora. But that could be just because we’re on a different continent, and even if it wasn’t, it was expected that I would show him.”

“He’s a good teacher, especially when I found this purple…” Tony smiles at T’Challa and Shuri’s step forward. “M’Baku stopped me.”

M’Baku dodges their thankful gazes, and continues, “He shouldn’t do _any_ form of cooking. Sometimes, he has days when just by looking at what you’re cooki—”

“I intimidated you, admit it,” Tony says cheerfully.

“You did not,” M’Baku replies with a dismissive gesture. “Anything else, weapons, tools, trinkets, ovens, huts, heated floors… he will find a way to make. I almost asked him for a rifle, but I was afraid of what might happen.”

“M’Baku insists on making his weapons though.” Tony pouts. “I did get him to accept a knife.”

“Good knife.” M’Baku nods. “Sharp.”

Tony preens discreetly.

“I’m unexpectedly delighted by how this all turned out,” Shuri states with a smile.

“You give me hope.” T’Challa grins. “And useful information.”

M’Baku snorts and Tony rolls his eyes.

“News?” Tony asks, rocking on his heels. 

“Both Zemo and Wade are here,” T’Challa begins, contentment settling over him like a blanket. “They weren’t any trouble. Gamora’s sister, Nebula, arrived. She seemed angry but agreed to work with the Guardians. Peter’s aunt got a job at Maria Stark Foundation and she’s working to prepare the bunkers in New York. She says it’s about time to get up off her ass. Let’s see… Agent Romanoff wants to meet with the Russian President and I’m not sure if anybody’s asking me, but I vote ‘yes.’ What else?” He asks Shuri.

“We’re due in two days for our first batch of AIs,” Shuri says cheerfully. “And Ms. Potts was looking for you, but it wasn’t urgent and could wait until today.”

“And Peter’s here,” T’Challa adds.

Tony thinks it over. “Peter and Pepper, Wade, and Zemo?”

“Sounds good,” T’Challa says. “I’ll come with you.”

*

“Do I actually know your aunt?” Tony asks suddenly in the middle of Peter’s rendering of her hire. “Because I don’t remember her at all.”

T’Challa doesn’t twitch but he blinks. All in all, it’s a discreet reaction. He is slowly getting used both to the odd things that still escape Tony and with his carefree announcing of it.

“Yes, you met her twice. Once before the fight with Rogers and the second time when she found out I was Spider-Man. You were taken by surprise and almost called security, and the first time she gave you a cookie you spat out,” Peter says earnestly. “I have a picture.”

Tony, who seems amused by the relationship he had with Peter’s aunt, replies, “Show me.”

Peter hands Tony his phone opened to a picture.

“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell,” Tony says and shakes his head.

Peter shrugs. “It will eventually, or it won’t. I mean, there’s your 25th birthday to consider.”

“Thank you,” Tony says dryly. “Compared to that I won’t even pretend to worry about the latest gaps in my memory.”

T’Challa doesn’t enquire verbally, but he does turn a questioning expression on them both, knowing that he’ll receive an answer if it isn’t a secret.

“I get obsessed with memories,” Tony explains. “There’s something I can’t remember, and usually I don’t care, but there’s some that just became fixations.”

“Your 25th birthday,” T’Challa says to show that he’s following.

Tony nods. “Sure.”

“But…” Peter trails off with a smile.

“Rhodey has let me know that I never remembered that birthday, since I spend it mostly unconscious, in the hospital,” Tony says. “Engineering blackout that left me dehydrated. I hadn’t eaten either, which was when I started my snacking habit.”

T’Challa frowns. Something doesn’t add up, but he can’t put his finger on it. Tony’s 25th birthday…

“Stop it.” Tony gestures at T’Challa’s face. “We didn’t tell the press the truth. I was led to believe that a story that matched my image was better than me liking work so much I almost killed myself. It was not the story we wanted to tell.”

Peter smiles. “That you work your ass off.”

“Well…” Tony flaps his hand in a see-saw motion. “Yes. That and that I like what I do more than the parties, the women, the… people. At the time it was bad for business, now it’s the opposite.”

“So you told the press you had alcohol poisoning,” T’Challa says, beginning to understand.

Tony defends, “Another time it might have been true, just not then.”

“It’s a great excuse,” T’Challa remarks. “Yes, you sometimes act recklessly and you do it naturally, but sometimes you just use that pattern to hide behind.” Which begs the question: What else did Tony find necessary to conceal?

“Wouldn’t you?” Tony asks with a wicked smirk.

“I would,” T’Challa is forced to admit.

Tony pats T’Challa’s arm, and turns to Peter, “Does your aunt—”

“May Parker,” Peter quips. 

“—like it?” Tony continues. He narrows his eyes. “Wait. Aunt May?”

“Yes!” Peter exclaims. “And so far, it’s great. A lot of work, but she says it’s worth it.”

Tony opens his mouth, but T’Challa stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Do you hear singing?” T’Challa asks.

“N—Yes.” Tony seems bemused.

And so the three of them are watching the hallway when a black and red figure turns the corner singing the theme of Gladiator and skipping along.

T’Challa blinks.

“So that’s my bodyguard,” Tony observes.

“I’m more concerned with how the bouncing human boom box managed to get away from the Doras,” T’Challa says. Teela comes careening after him, Nareema and Daraja right behind. “Ah.”

“Yuuuhuuuu,” Wade greets, waving.

Tony chuckles. “Yuhu back.”

Peter and T’Challa placidly wave.

“Oh man, I knew I was going to like you,” Wade says gleefully as he dances away from Teela’s extended hand without looking. “So, I will defend you. Neat!”

“Good luck,” Peter tells Tony, smiling a bit too widely.

Tony rolls his eyes and turns to Wade. “You’re doing a great job so far,” Tony assures. “Beside the, you know, pissing off the Doras, serenading everyone, and your generally illegal behavior. I’ve seen worse starts. And hey, they’re mostly mine, so you’re on the up and up.”

“Awwww!” Wade blurts, his hands to his cheeks. “You are too kind!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Teela apologizes. At the same time, Nareema and Daraja’s hands close down on Wade’s arms. He wiggles as Teela adds, “It won’t happen again.”

T’Challa opens his mouth to respond, but Wade gets there first.

“No fair,” Wade complains. “It’s my job—well, my other job, my former job, the job I’ll get back to at some point, the job that recommended me?—to get past everyone. If I don’t, you’ll make me look bad!”

“Not my problem,” Teela says unrepentantly. 

“What?!” Wade moves dramatically, which is awkward without moving his arms but he makes it happen. “Okay.” He seems to calm down a bit. “I suppose that’s fair.” Wade looks like he’s thinking and T’Challa wants to laugh already. “Can you I bribe you?”

T’Challa called it.

The shock is present on everyone’s face, a slower blink or narrower eyes, but they recover quickly.

Peter even bursts into laughter. “Funny,” he barely gets out.

Surprisingly, it’s Wade’s turn to be shocked. It takes him a second or so to reinstate his ‘I don’t care’ demeanor and says, “Thanks, baby boy.”

Peter smiles brightly, and Wade gives a tiny shake of his head.

“You will stay with Tony until we discuss how it’s going to work,” T’Challa says, saving Wade from his confusion, and gestures the Doras to release Wade.

Wade salutes sloppily and asks Tony, “What do I call you?”

“Tony.” Tony frowns. “Or Stark.”

Wade shakes his head vigorously. “No, see the question was: _what_ do I call you? Are my boss? My man?” His eyes widened through the mask in a movement that should be impossible. “My iron? My Iron Man? My savior? My sugar da—” Wade interrupts himself, turning to Peter in what has to be the least subtle way possible. “Should I check my words? Am I being a bad influence? Besides the obvious.”

“You have about a month to try to convince me to drink alcohol if you want to be age-inappropriate,” Peter says amusedly. “Otherwise, you’re too late. I’m twenty.” He seems to reconsider. “Or I guess, you could still be a bad influence, but it’s not an age thing.”

“Okay, but you don’t look twenty-one,” Wade maintains. “Can I see an ID or something?”

Peter somehow frowns fondly, ignoring Tony epically rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you think the people here might have… I don’t know, twitched or something if I lied?” Peter asks sweetly.

It’s odd.

“Let me tell you something, I _don’t_ think the people here would react if a nuke got dropped on the place. A device would automatically disarm it or make it disappear, and they’ll remain calm and beautiful,” Wade whispers.

Peter looks around skeptically, and then confirms quietly, “You might be on to something.”

The distance between them is… Oh! T’Challa turns and his worried gaze meets Tony’s annoyed one. The distance between Peter and Wade is almost non-existent. What makes T’Challa feel much better, though, is when Wade realizes the same thing, he _leaps_ a couple of feet until he’s next to Tony. And hides behind him.

Tony is unimpressed. “Tony or Stark,” he repeats.

“My Stark,” Wade answers loudly. “Because my Tony sounds too lover-y.”

Tony huffs and T’Challa has never seen him look more like a displeased father.

“I think I know what Pepper wants,” Tony says suddenly, blinking rapidly. “Zemo first.”

T’Challa hesitates but ultimately nods. “Through here.” He gestures to an adjacent hallway.

“How do I call you?” Tony asks Wade as they follow T’Challa directions.

“Whatever doesn’t make you chuckle,” Wade replies.

Tony seems slightly surprised. “Aren’t you worried that people might recognize you?”

“I’m on Local Professionals,” Wade says prompting Peter to snort. “At ‘mercenary.’”

“As Deadpool,” Tony observes.

“Yeah?” Wade questions as he answers. “With my address.”

And T’Challa actually searched for him. It didn’t occur to him to look at the address on the Local Professionals. In his defense, he’s very skeptical that anyone who’s not desperate does.

“Deadpool it is then,” Tony says. “You’ll have to explain to me later how you’re not in handcuffs.” He turns to Peter. “How is your work with Bruce going?”

“Not so good.” Peter shrugs. “We—and by we, I mean mostly him because I don’t really have any experience compared to him—realized that we wouldn’t be finished in time, so we’re looking at other options.”

Tony’s expression closes up. “That sounds ominous.”

“With the price and the time, we were thinking about MREs and supplement that with a tasteless compound of chemical goodies that are indispensable. We were thinking that afterward you or somebody else can make them a sort of machine that analyzes blood, people can input their conditions, and it spits out the right mixture. That way, we won’t have to worry about dietary restrictions,” Peter says quietly. “It looks like the only choice right about now, even though it’s a quite a bit over the estimated budget.”

“How much time did you factor in?” T’Challa asks.

“A week.” Peter sighs. “A little over seven days because the substances once ingested have different rhythms for absorption.”

“We knew there were going to be several hurdles,” Tony says. “Maybe we can get Asgard or one of the planets we defend to chip in.”

“And MREs for a week isn’t so long,” Wade adds. “You don’t even notice they are little pockets of impossibility: food over-spiced lays next to food under-spiced, but somehow they don’t cancel each other out and you have to taste every bite.”

Nobody has experience with MREs so—

Tony makes a confirming noise. “But they do handle extreme temperatures well. They taste pretty much the same.”

T’Challa swallows, getting that Tony is referring to Afghanistan and Siberia.

“There is that,” Wade admits. “Now we have to make sure this dance doesn’t last more than a week and we’re golden.”

“No pressure,” Peter quips brightly.

Two locked doors later, they reach Zemo, who isn’t too happy to see Tony.

“Hi,” Tony greets, waving obnoxiously. He sinks his hands in his pockets. “Comfy?”

Zemo glares.

“Shuri and Tony will be the ones to check your work,” T’Challa tells Zemo.

Zemo glares harder, but nods.

Tony seems to have a quiet conversation with Peter consisting of mostly of huffs and puppy dog eyes, before Tony asks, “Can Peter join?”

“Certainly,” T’Challa responds easily. “Three people: one he knows, one he owes, and an outsider.”

Zemo averts his eyes, but he tells Tony, “I haven’t seen you in a long time. They say you and the Captain”—he sneers—”are working together again. I almost didn’t believe it, but then I don’t see them here, in your new base of operations.”

“A lot of things happened.” Tony flaps a hand nonchalantly. “I stepped on a mollusk and fell at a point. Don’t worry, though, I crushed the thing. But as a consequence, Rogers and his team are involved. We have different tasks.”

“Different as in you are the guy that calls the shots and they execute?” Zemo chuckles bitterly. No matter how he hates Thanos now, Zemo’s hatred for Tony is enduring. “I wasn’t worried, Stark. You crush most things in your path. In this case, it’s a good thing for everyone.” Zemo rubs a hand over his face. He seems so very tired.

“It’s too early for patterns, but can you put together a report on how many commanders there are?” Tony asks, ignoring Zemo.

“Yes,” Zemo lifts his head and frowns. “I think—yes. You should have it soon. Tonight or tomorrow.” He turns to the room that has ten cyber-engineers and five Doras, and with a pondering expression gently shoos two engineers away, makes himself a panoramic-view workspace and gets to work. 

*

“A hydra is not a mollusk, my Stark,” Wade observes as they enter a different meeting room.

“But the HYDRA _is_ a slimy organism that’s almost impossible to catch and it’s continuously underestimated while, at the same time, feared,” Tony shoots back. “I thought it fits.”

Wade nods dramatically. “You put a lot of thought in your metaphors.”

T’Challa interrupts because he wants to be done by dinner, preferably, or, alternatively, by the time the invasion begins, “What do you think Ms. Potts wants?”

“She’s getting married,” Tony responds.

T’Challa frowns.

“You should totally go to it,” Wade chimes. “They want to have it in a bunker with multiple access points known only to you, right?” He receives unimpressed looks. “What? It could happen.”

“Pepper mentioned the Botanical Gardens,” Tony says airily.

Wade smacks his head against the table. “You didn’t mention you’d be hiring me short term.”


	12. Chapter 12

About a week later, T’Challa is taking a break in the techno-organic jungle when Tony finds him.

“Is that a report?” Tony asks hesitantly.

“Yes,” T’Challa answers absently. When Tony turns on his heels apparently having had enough, understandably so, with the things for the foreseeable future T’Challa smiles. “The weekly one about the rescued animals.”

Tony stops and turns, fluttering at the edge of T’Challa’s field of vision. “Do you really need to read that?”

“Of course.” T’Challa doesn’t raise his eyes. “It is eminently important.”

Tony chuckles. “I like your priorities. Do you mind some company?”

“I don’t mind yours.” T’Challa smiles brightly as he lifts his head to watch Tony. “Wakandans have the tradition to care for animals that have been hurt and cannot do it themselves,” he explains. “Do you want to hear about the bets on whom Alice will choose as a mate?”

“Who are the candidates?” Tony asks amusedly while sitting down next to T’Challa.

“Richard and Daniel,” T’Challa answers easily, lightly bumping his arm against Tony’s in welcome. “I think she’s going to pick Daniel, but everybody thinks I’m delusional.”

“Hmm,” Tony murmurs as he sinks lower. “What were your reasons?”

“I have none.” T’Challa extends his legs, which Tony takes as the invitation is supposed to be and puts his head in T’Challa’s lap. “More of a panther to panther intuition.”

“I, also, would like to have it stated for the record that I suspect you to be delusional.”

“So noted.”

Tony nods awkwardly from his position. “That being said, my money’s on Daniel.”

T’Challa laughs and gently runs his fingers through Tony’s hair.

Tony smiles and closes his eyes. “What else is there?”

“A panther cub managed to survive against all odds.”

“Way to go, little guy!” Tony pumps an arm in the air. “What’s his name?”

“Steve.”

Tony makes a face. “Good choice.”

T’Challa snorts.

Tony opens his eyes and asks, “Do you have pictures with that?”

“No, but don’t get upset. I have video.”

And together they spend the next ten minutes watching a panther cub with a bum ear bumbling around and eating milk.

Steve is adorable.

“Is he going to attack the string?” Tony asks while biting his lip.

T’Challa is no better. “He is.”

“Oh, that string is dead!” T’Challa opens his mouth, but Tony adds quickly, “Which is true because strings aren’t alive.”

 T’Challa doesn’t even try to hide his grin, but says, “Watch the bug! He’s going to jump for it!”

Steve misses and falls head over heels.

“Nooooooo!”

“He’s fine, he’s fine!”

“Sturdy cub,” Tony coos. “You’ll get it next time, don’t worry.”

“He’s not worried, he’s determined.”

“Yeah. Oh, I think he’s tired.”

Sure enough, Steve yawns.

“Go to sleep, little one,” T’Challa whispers.

“Buh-bye,” Tony says quietly. “I will stalk you again.”

“Do you want a feed to him while you work?”

“Please and thank you.”

“All right.” T’Challa likes the texture of Tony’s hair on his fingers. “Can you ask you something work-related?”

“You can ask, but I go quiet as soon as your fingers stop,” Tony says, closing his eyes again and wiggling a bit to make himself comfortable.

T’Challa can’t talk for a couple of seconds. He’s overwhelmed by his fondness of Tony and the uncomplicated joy of the moment. T’Challa takes a deep breath. Tony is just… Tony, Wakanda continues to be Wakanda with new people buzzing around, and his Tribe is as busy as ever. He inhales deeply again but does so silently, enjoying the moment.

“Deal,” T’Challa manages. “So what exactly is Zemo doing?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Why did you agree to get him without knowing his part in all this?”

“My impression is that he gathers reports and sifts through them to discover patterns.”

“He does.”

“But the other day he appeared to analyze the raw footage himself.”

“I think he gathers the data, finds the patterns, and then double checks afterward. In this case, he probably wanted to verify the location of the commanders.” Tony lifts a hand in a dismissive wave. “It took me some time to figure out how he worked. I kept wondering how he knew about Barnes killing my parents, or that Steve hadn’t told me about their death.”

T’Challa considers for a few seconds. “SHIELD covered your parents’ death, made it look like an accident, so it must’ve been in the documents. Who HYDRA used was obvious past behavior. The organization used Barnes for high-risk targets.  That part wasn’t hard. What I don’t know is how he found out that Rogers was sitting on the information.” He pauses and hesitates. “Unless he didn’t.”

“Yes, I think it was irrelevant,” Tony says. “If Rogers didn’t know about it, my pattern showed that I’d flip my lid, go after Barnes, and Rogers would try to protect Barnes. And if Rogers did, his pattern would show him hiding it which leads to me getting even angrier.”

Tony doesn’t sigh, but it’s close enough for T’Challa to feel bad about bringing it up and he bites back the rest.

Probably suspecting something, Tony opens one eye and squints at T’Challa. “Tell me?” Tony invites.

“To be your enemy is to sign one’s demise,” T’Challa says. “Only Loki and Barnes escaped, and they didn’t escape unscathed. It’s rather obvious that your instinct would be to harm someone who brought you injury. I don’t find Rogers’ pattern as obvious.”

Tony ponders something in silence. Then he asks, “SHIELD’s fall, did you find anything strange there?”

“Not necessarily, but I was busy organizing the erasure of all information pertaining to Wakanda that flooded the internet.”

“Understandable,” Tony agrees. “And what do you know about how Rogers was chosen to be a super-soldier?”

T’Challa lifted one shoulder. “Nothing beyond the propaganda: he was the ideal specimen.”

“Well, in the war, he hid from people at recruitment centers that he had been rejected by others, and, in the new century, he hid from me both the necessity to destroy the helicarries and the info dump. Considering that I built the engines and I was the one with the most experience with something he knew nothing about, it showed a tendency to conceal things, especially from people inclined to tell him ‘no.’ That person nowadays is me. Or, maybe, he simply doesn’t trust me. Anyway, the pattern starts to take shape.”

“What’s his problem with you?” T’Challa asks in exasperation. “No more apologies for him, Tony. It’s not rational. It can’t be. He acts like an idiot around you.”

“So do I. We just annoy each other by our simple presence. I guess if you want to be simplistic about it, we have opposite views on most things.”

Tony falls silent and T’Challa waits.

“Besides the fact that he despises me, what I did and what I do, it’s also the fact that I want to stop at some point.” Tony sighs. “He can’t see it—the light at the end of the tunnel. To him, it will be the beginning of a new fight. And I know he’s right, I don’t imagine preparing for fighting against Thanos’ armies will do much for the starving people of the world or those villainously inclined, but then that’s not my problem. I keep thinking about what you said, about overextending yourself, and I think I reached that conclusion before I was able to put it in words. As sad as it is, not everything is my problem.”

Absently running his fingers through Tony’s hair, T’Challa nods. “Do you want my opinion?”

Tony takes a breath. “Yeah. That’ll be helpful.”

“Well, I do think that it’s not going to be the last fight,” T’Challa admits. “But I think your way of moving forward is the path I’d choose.”

Tony frowns.

“You didn’t even realize you are doing it.” T’Challa shakes his head with a smile. “Peter. That’s how Wakandan leaders stop: they train somebody else to take their place. They make sure the next generation has all the tools they need and trust them to make the best decisions they possibly can to the challenges they face.”

“Peter’s not the only one,” Tony mumbles.

T’Challa cocks his head, not understanding.

“Peter is a super-hero, he’s super and he’s a hero. In a series of unforeseen events, we got stuck together, and he’s a great kid so it wasn’t hard at all to make things so that he’ll be safe or to share my experience.” Tony stops and T’Challa nods, he knew this. But then, Tony adds, “He’s not the first. Harley doesn’t have special abilities, but he is super and a hero. He’s not a super-hero. But he’s a very smart kid that’s going to change the world one day. The unlikely just happened to repeat itself with Peter.”

T’Challa is taken aback.

“I want to mention him in case my lawyer’s office is gone and I’m dead. Harley has a sister and a mother, so he keeps his distance, but he’s—” Tony laughs. “Mini-Me. His father abandoned them but I still checked his DNA because it’s… frightening. But no, no blood relation.” He bites his lip. “I know what you did for Peter, I appreciate it, and I can’t ask you for anything mor—”

T’Challa interrupts, “Harley and his family are going to be taken care of.”

“Thank you,” Tony whispers but he beams at T’Challa and that’s more than enough.

T’Challa tightens his hand but relaxes it before Tony could feel that something is wrong. Tony has heirs. He has mechanic ones, cybernetic, and organic, yet everyone is still under the impression that Tony has none. T’Challa believed it until Peter arrived in Wakanda, but he didn’t know how many or how different they were. Are.

“Harley, Peter, Dummy, U, Vision, FRIDAY, Karen, these are your way of continuing to fight, even when you can’t,” T’Challa says, picking up the subject again. “You are a doting teacher, Tony, and I don’t see anything wrong with you not being directly involved in the challenges your heirs face. Humans aren’t immortal and stepping back little by little is the only way you _can_ continue to fight. I don’t know how Rogers is planning on doing it.” He slightly changes directions. “And, it’s not like you aren’t going to tackle starvation. I see how you reacted when Peter told you their idea but, yes, I agree that world’s problems aren’t a single person’s burden.”

Tony doesn’t react but T’Challa can tell he’s thinking about it which is all T’Challa can ask.

“Maybe you have a point,” Tony says.

And with that, T’Challa lets it go. He doesn’t have an opinion as such on Rogers. If asked, T’Challa will probably say that Rogers is inconsistent: an honorable man with a few exceptions. Those exceptions never applied to T’Challa so they were important notes for Rogers’ character and nothing more. Now, of course, things are different.

“Did Ms. Potts agree to your plea to change the wedding plans?”

Tony makes a pained face, and T’Challa pets him apologetically.

“Yes and no,” Tony answers. “It’s like this: on the one side, I have Pepper listing all the disadvantages of me being in the limelight as a superhero; on the other I have Peter saying he wants to make his identity known. I can understand Peter because nowadays people are going to find out and the only reason they haven’t yet is me, FRIDAY and Karen. But then, I get Pepper who says she wanted one thing, to be free of my drama and she’s right. She deserves that.”

T’Challa frowns.

“It’s also frustrating,” Tony adds. “That’s the reason we broke up. She didn’t like a thing, freaked out about it, left me, and then came back. And we did a few times. I couldn’t do that. Anymore. I couldn’t. I loved her, that wasn’t the problem. I always had the type of life peppered with explosions and she always stayed. But then, she couldn’t cope with it and she expected me to change with her. I tried, but couldn’t. Now that we broke up, her patience is limited.”

“Changes in status usually have consequences.”

“If they did, it didn’t affect me in the same way. I know we weren’t good for each other, but I couldn’t tell her that. Can’t. When I open my mouth to do it, I remember all she did for me. She was paid, sure, but she stayed.” Tony falls silent. “Especially not now. She discovered Happy, they’re…”—he snorts—“ _joyful_ together, and now she has to deal with my shit again.”

“She would have had to anyway since she is your CEO. If you aren’t going to be present at the wedding she’ll probably be kidnapped and held for ransom,” T’Challa reminds Tony.

“Yeah… and there are five commanders missing from Thanos’ army.”

“They could have abandoned ship, gone to make the army bigger, but, yes, some might be on their way,” T’Challa agrees.

“How is this not my shit again?”

“Because that takes away her choices. So your response to someone trying to destroy you is to build something that blows them to smithereens. That’s a good thing, Tony. Then you assumed responsibility, both for your company’s selling practices and for your actions that stemmed from that. You didn’t hide behind anybody. She stayed. That’s her decision.” T’Challa sighs. “I have no idea why she’d say those things to you. Maybe she’s just stressed.” He frowns. “But people have this tendency to make you their lightning rod for various thoughts they don’t want to entertain, and it’s starting to _annoy_ me.”

Tony studies T’Challa for long minutes, searching for something that T’Challa doesn’t know how to make more easily accessible. If it’s there, Tony will find it, if it’s not, T’Challa can’t summon it. He’s been honest and doesn’t want to be something else.

But then Tony stops breathing for a second. And T’Challa worries. He knows that a decision has been reached and is concerned that he should have done something. But there’s no more time for that. This is it.

Tony bites his lip and burrows his face in T’Challa’s stomach. Trembling slightly, Tony brings his hands around T’Challa’s middle and holds him tight. Tony doesn’t make any noise, he doesn’t cry, he just… tightens his hold on T’Challa and hangs on.

Not knowing what to do or what’s going on, T’Challa hugs Tony in turn. T’Challa’s embrace is less… desperate, more gentle and comforting, as he mentally reviews what he said to provoke this reaction in Tony. There’s nothing that jumps out. T’Challa feels lost. His worry grows. He’s afraid that he’s not doing the right thing.

“I’m freaking you out,” Tony says muffled by T’Challa shirt.

Great.

“I am… concerned, I don’t know what I said,” T’Challa answers.

Tony says haltingly, “I just had a bad… decade. Over a decade. It’s been rough.”

T’Challa winces.

“You’re good,” Tony assures. “Just.” He takes a deep breath that T’Challa feels more than he hears. “What do you think about Peter and Deadpool?”

“Right now?” T’Challa asks, a bit bewildered.

“I want to change the subject.”

T’Challa desperately searches for something to say. “I think Wade’s too old for him.”

“That’s what I said!”

“To whom?”

“To Peter, Wade’s surprisingly aware of the age difference and is keeping his distance.” Tony makes an odd noise that T’Challa identifies as a chuckle. “Mostly by hiding behind me.”

“So you abandoned him?”

“Teela took over.”

T’Challa makes a face thinking about the training that Teela will put Wade through. “Good thing he’s cursed.”

“It won’t hurt any less.”

“Teela will notice it and act accordingly,” T’Challa says, having complete faith that she will. “What did Peter say?”

“He shrugged and said that Deadpool’s funny.” But Tony says it wrong. He says it as the end of a discussion and not as something that came up in the middle of one.

So T’Challa asks, “Why do you sound final?”

Tony seems a bit taken aback. “Because it is.”

“I don’t follow.”

Tony turns to look at T’Challa.

“You keep me connected,” Tony announces. T’Challa hears his sober tone and listens carefully as Tony goes on, “To the world, to people, sometimes to reality. You remind me that people _can_ be happy. You make me believe in unity. You give me hope that I can slow down at some point. You make me feel at home—not like a building, but like a feeling. Comfortable. Confident. And I don’t need to say all that because if I just say you keep me connected I _mean_ it all.”

“Tony, I—”

Tony interrupts by holding up a hand. “And to a kid that’s always been a bit off, who has a way about him that few people understand, it matters when he says somebody’s funny. See, because—”

“It’s so much more.”

“Yes.” Tony stops and sighs. “I think they understand each other.”

“Does that mean they have your blessing?”

Tony snorts. “They don’t need it.”

“Peter wants it.”

“It’s not like that. Do I now know that it goes beyond the surface? Sure.” Tony flaps his hand, gracefully avoiding hitting T’Challa. “But neither of them are minors. Both of them have things to come to terms with. If they want to try and figure it out, then, yes, Peter has my support. He never lost it. I think they’re taking it slow because their opposing issues would blow up otherwise, and they’re probably going to try for friends because none of them are what anybody would call overconfident. There’s so much they have to get past that it may well explode even if they’re rediscovering the snail’s pace. But I don’t get a say, it all of that depends on them.”

“You missed the important part,” T’Challa says amusedly. “He never lost your support; you’re offering a safety net if he decides to jump. That’s even better than a blessing.”

“Have to break the cycle at some point,” Tony replies airily. “Saying that this is not my business is the right thing to do, but it’s also true.” He takes a deep breath. “What are _we_ waiting for?”

“Nothing,” T’Challa answers reflexively, taken by surprise. “I am not waiting for anything, and, if you are, I’m not aware of what it is.”

Tony makes eye-contact and he seems… disbelieving. T’Challa meets his gaze. He has nothing to hide.

“How about sex?” Tony asks a tad coolly.

“It’ll be nice if it ever happens, but it’s not necessary. I care about you. Maybe our relationship will develop in new and interesting ways with the addition of sex, but even without it, it’s bound to grow and branch out. As Mantis said, I love you completely.”

Tony smiles. “You keep me connected,” he repeats, sits up, and presses a soft kiss to T’Challa’s lips. “That means I love you, too.” Tony pecks T’Challa quickly and they’re both grinning. “Window dressing.”

“Agreed.”

And so the next kiss isn’t short. But it’s gentle, comforting, more of an assurance than a passionate declaration. It feels… like spending time with the Tribe, like knowing his place in the world, like coming home after a long bout spent travelling—it feels right. 

“Have I told you that Loki found another magic-user?” Tony asks, grinning.

T’Challa keeps pace much more easily than he would have otherwise. He’s learning. “No,” he answers, lips tingling but mind focused.

“He’s the only qualified physician out of us all and the only one who’s not trying his hand at practicing.”

“Then he should fit right in.”

“And I got a meeting with the X-men.”

“Congratulations.”

“So guess who has the afternoon off?”

T’Challa smirks. “Me?”

“I hope so. Who else? I’ll give you a hint, you just kissed him.”

“Would that be the way we’ll spend the afternoon?” T’Challa gestures to his bead. “Or will we be reviewing the other rescues?”

“Both,” Tony answers delightedly.

“Very well.” T’Challa kisses Tony’s temple. “And Tony? If worse comes to worse, Wakanda has the technology to get away. I’m not going to abandon you to be a puppet,” T’Challa swears. “You mean a lot to me _and_ gave me the information to unite us. I promise I’ll rescue you.”

Tony swallows. He shakes his head. His chest moves with a deep breath. “I don’t need that and I won’t allow it. If worse comes to worse, I’ll escape somehow.” His lips curved upwards slightly, his eyes practically glowing amber. “I need you to promise me you’ll want to _but_ that you won’t.”

“I promise.”


	13. Chapter 13

T’Challa is _annoyed._ Someone dropped the ball and one of Africa’s Representatives came to T’Challa directly instead of her own corresponding Stark Representative and he needs to solve it now or they will all cut their intermediaries. Although the last thing T’Challa wants is to make Tony’s life harder, they need to solve it before this bright idea occurs to somebody else and the whole system gets bogged down by people wanting to get the information straight from the source. They can’t afford that. Not with two months to go until Thanos’ army gets here.

The door is open. Tony is at a station. T’Challa is moving towards him.

But.

Tony is arguing with Pepper, which means T’Challa _should not be_ in this room. That way lays danger. He turns on his heels, hurrying back out.

T’Challa almost makes it. He’s almost at the door.  Nearly there.

But it is not to be...

“T’Challa!” Tony’s voice rings in the—empty, that should have been a _hint_ —room.

And not realizing where they are or who might be listening, T’Challa turns with a long, violent hiss.

Tony, who was moving towards him, stops suddenly.

T’Challa carefully doesn’t fidget.

On Tony’s face, a smile slowly blooms. “I feel like I stepped on a cat’s tail—terrified and guilty.”

T’Challa pouts.

“Mostly guilty,” Tony says with a mischievous smile. He continues talking as he walks towards T’Challa. “I’m afraid I jumped to conclusions when I advised against the tail.”

“Rocket and I ended up striking it.”

Tony shrugs. “You already have the reactions.”

“I didn’t growl.”

“No, you reacted like an upset kitty.”

“Next time I’ll spit too,” T’Challa warns sullenly. “You deserve it.”

“I thought it was adorable.”

“As I said—you deserve it.”

“You needed me?”

“A representative came directly to me.”

“That’s bad,” Tony admits. “How would you like to join me for this call and I’ll solve that problem for you?”

“I’d rather not.”

Tony bats his eyelashes. “Please?”

“No.”

“Why?” Tony whines.

“Because I’m going to snap at her and convince her to go with her dumb idea anyway,” T’Challa answers honestly.

Tony ducks his head and sticks his hands in his pockets. “That may be true, but they’re my friends and she’s my ex. Every time a subject we didn’t agree on comes up the conversation _devolves_. I know I’m not going to win this one, she’s made her mind, but I can’t give up, I’ve got to try. She’s making a mistake and I don’t know how to stop her.”

“I can’t promise to be on my best behavior, but I can offer support.” T’Challa sighs. “We can both try. And Tony?” He waits until Tony meets his eyes. “This is her decision; you’re not responsible for it.”

“Logically, I know. It just doesn’t feel like it,” Tony says quietly.

And T’Challa understands that. He resignedly follows Tony back to the station. T’Challa can practically predict Potts’ arguments and they can be divided into two categories: blind optimism, and bleak defeatism. When that doesn’t provide enough variation, she tries blaming Tony. There’s a reason T’Challa didn’t want to take part in this.

“If it didn’t happen at all the fundraising parties”—that Tony was only present at to avoid this exact same situation—“why do you still insist that it’s going to happen?” Potts asks.

“I’m merely suggesting another venue,” Tony says. “Just in case.”

“The last time you were afraid for Happy, you indirectly blew up the Malibu house,” Potts shoots back.

Hogan takes a startled breath. “Pepper!”

Potts looks admonished for a whole second. “You have a tendency to overreact when it comes to the safety of your friends, but, Tony, don’t you think that we should take advantage of the time we have?” She makes a face that T’Challa can only read as patronizing although that may not be how she intended it. “When it could be our last?”

Tony clenches his jaw. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t have the wedding—”

“Because you know that it’s not your decision to make,” Potts accuses. “Don’t pretend you didn’t try!”

“I’m just saying have the wedding somewhere else,” Tony persists. He’s obviously only calm by the skin of his teeth.

“Why?” Potts demands. “You are Iron Man and we have to pay for it?”

T’Challa is aware that the probability that he doesn’t see the problem from her point of view _and_ he arrived in time to see the participants at their worse is high.

But _come on_.

“Ms. Potts, I apologize for intervening in your discussion,” T’Challa says politely. “However, you might appreciate an outside opinion.”

“I didn’t listen to outside opinions from Tony’s partners before and, no matter what status you have, I’m not going to listen to them now,” Potts says firmly. “It’s all the same—a critique of my choices.”

Hogan’s eyes widen.

“Yes, you are right in all respects.” T’Challa nods slowly. “I care for Tony and am pleased to be called his partner. It is your wedding and it is my business because I am concerned about your _blatantly_ endangering the man I love.”

Potts smirks as if she won something.

She didn’t.

“But why does the President of China care?” T’Challa asks airily. “France? Canada? South Africa? Pakistan? Country leaders from all over the world.”

Potts frowns.

“As I see it, there are two statements that are equally true. The first one is that it is not fair to you. The second is that Tony is a global asset. I can see how you are not interested in the second due to the first. Aside from, maybe, your husband, no one else will think the same way,” T’Challa says is as soothing a cadence as he can. “There are parents, children, siblings, grandparents, spouses, relatives, and loved ones that depend on him.”

“Your argument that it has not happened yet so it must not happen at all can be easily dismissed. I do not think that the weakness of your argument escapes you.” T’Challa pressed his lips together. “One could point out that the sheer distance they would have had to traverse to get here is the reason for their delayed attack. There are many others. I fully believe you see them as clearly as I can.”

Potts glares and lifts her chin.

“A friend is in front of you and he is trying desperately to make you change your mind so that you would be _safe_ ,” T’Challa says, changing tracks. “That is all he cares about when he speaks. I know it’s not a matter of money or comfort. Why can’t you change the wedding venue?”

Because she’s panicked.

Because she’s stubborn.

Because she lost hope.

Because she sees _this_ as the true battle in the invasion’s stead.

And T’Challa knows what she’s going to say.

“I already made up my mind,” Potts declares. “The wedding will happen in one month’s time at The Botanical Gardens.”

Hogan looks at her adoringly and T’Challa wants to smash something.

Tony’s quiet.

*

T’Challa is drinking tea. He doesn’t especially like it, but it’s the kind that his mother used to drink when he was little and is now inescapably linked to safety and comfort. There isn’t a reason, as such, that made him chose to drink it now, but there’s an atmosphere of unease that pushed him toward the tea before he even realized it.

“You seem exactly the type of person who’d like tea,” Tony says as he heads towards T’Challa from where he tried one more time to reason with Potts. “Which is why I imagined you wouldn’t like it.”

“You’re right.” T’Challa lightly shakes his head with a smile. He doesn’t completely understand how Tony does it, but he manages to know T’Challa pretty well. “I don’t particularly like it, but it’s a comfort drink.”

Tony nods and gets closer. “Smells good.”

“That’s mainly where the comfort comes from, olfactory memory.”

“More than a month and a half left.”

“It’s not the invasion.” T’Challa takes a deep calming breath. “Or I don’t think it is. There’s something in the air. Everybody seems tense.”

“Ah.” Tony has a sheepish smile on his face. “That might be my fault.”

T’Challa raises an eyebrow.

“I was about to tell you too, I just got it when I was talking to Pepper,” Tony defends.

Oh no.

What now?

“I got an alert from my early warning system, three cloaked ships are close.” Tony raises his hands in a universal ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “They’re alone and not too big or I’d have called it in already. I sent a message to everybody else to get them to a meeting in two hours.”

Tony’s precise role in the story of the invasion is unclear. It’s mainly because Loki let them know about several races of Thanos’ army being telepathic, but also because he refuses to tell what type of technology he has invented. While the invasion is a global effort, most countries have something they held back—Wakanda certainly has—so Tony not being forthcoming is not a surprise.

From what T’Challa understands, Tony takes care of things that happen right outside the Solar System. As such, how he does it is his own business because the world has enough to do with the organized defense more closer to home. There have been those who have suggested that Tony’s AIs are better being farther away—though that doesn’t make any sense since FRIDAY and their memories will be stored on the planet—and everybody simply assumed his technology consists of suits. T’Challa disagrees.

But Tony hasn’t asked about Wakanda’s ways of leaving the planet and T’Challa understands well the importance of secrets.

“Just how big are the ships?” T’Challa asks.

“There are about one hundred separate life forms in them,” Tony responds.

“Those are small numbers, granted, but for an assassination there are plenty.”

Tony sighs. “That they are.”

“We may have to use the NovaCore ships. They’re ready, right?”

“Yes,” Tony replies, rhythmically hitting lightly his right fist to his other palm. “And I have implemented a communication dead zone. They can’t communicate with the rest of the army.”

T’Challa will remember that. “But they can still go back.”

“Yup,” Tony admitted.

“We’re not going to do anything about them, are we?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Makes sense why you wouldn’t hurry,” T’Challa says dryly.

Tony shrugs. “We can try the Guardians.”

“Sure.” And make them blindly go around the Earth for the next month and a half. T’Challa changes subjects. “What did Ms. Potts say?”

“She asked for evidence that they were coming for her wedding.”

“The wedding’s still on?”

“The wedding still on.”

*

To be honest, the Botanical Gardens are beautiful. T’Challa can see where Tony tried to improve security by adding slender, black poles, but that is only because T’Challa knew what they were. They do not detract from the scenery at all. Neither do all the superheroes and metahumans under digital disguises.

The white and black AIs, however, are not as inconspicuous, and T’Challa’s two squadrons of Doras have definitely managed to attract attention. Added to that, the bodyguards, the weapons, and the helicopters are making the guests nervous. The half of them that have actually come for the wedding.

The media seems to be having fun though.

As T’Challa and Tony walk down the aisle to their seats, they are accompanied by screeching.

_“I cannot believe you made my wedding such a circus!”_ Potts shouts.

T’Challa had a shock to his system when she started which led to Tony messing around with the volume to make it bearable. He only mostly succeeded. T’Challa guided the phone at arm’s length.

Tony opens his mouth, but T’Challa gestures to the watch.

“It’s about time, Pep,” Tony says.

_“You are lucky I have great PAs, Tony, otherwise I’d never get married. The number of guests tripled. It’s a good thing that most of the additional ones are standing.”_ Potts takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

“Anything else, Ms. Potts?” Tony asks.

Potts laughs. _“That’ll be all, Mr. Stark.”_ T’Challa can hear tears in her voice.

They end the call.

“Maybe we’ll live,” T’Challa says easily, ignoring the media going nuts over Tony’s date.

Even now.

Wakandans are easy to deal with. They are a warrior culture and they have received their orders. Also, the end of the planet doesn’t mean the end for Wakandans. He makes sure to organize everybody, Harley and his family are set to arrive in two weeks, everything is ready. T’Challa’s people are hurried but not panicked. That means that T’Challa has no idea how the rest of the world deals with it.

The media, at least, seems to continue as they were.

Tony chuckles. “From the mouth of babes.”

T’Challa offers Tony a deadpan face provoking a peal of laughter.

After that, it is simple: the music, the bride, the lovely couple, the oaths, the pronouncement, and the… seven feet octopus-person snatching Tony.

Lovely.

Tony ducks the first tentacle. But he heads right in doing so. It’s unclear if he saw the other one coming from the same direction.

And Wade is there. In one second and two flashes, five tentacles are on the ground. One more move and a katana is protruding out of their chest. Then the octopus-person is cut into three pieces.

Meanwhile, T’Challa has deactivated his digital disguise which has left him in his suit. He gestured to Teela, who’s going to make sure that the Doras are in place. T’Challa puts his helmet on.

_“Aidan?!”_ Potts screams.

The intruder used to be one of her assistants.

“Engage,” Tony orders and the poles unfurl.

They are about twelve feet tall, a little curved at the top to offer Peter a perch, with one person openings every two poles. It looks imposing, but it’s flimsy due to the current circumstances. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be able to tell. On the outside of the impromptu wall, the AIs are constrained to the ground so that they won’t inadvertently offer any information about their abilities.

“Please, stay calm,” the lead bodyguard, whose name T’Challa didn’t quite catch—Ethan, maybe?—says. “We are going to protect you. Please, remain in your seats. You are protected.”

Ethan goes to repeat his message but one of his team transforms into another intruder and he’s busy shooting them.

The Doff. T’Challa remembers Loki’s lessons. These are the Doff, a touch-telepathic race who communicates with others of their kind through magnetic waves. If one finds out something, they all know.

And, of course, the guests are officially panicking and running all over the place.

One of them extends a tentacle toward T’Challa—so, not a guest—and T’Challa nimbly jumps out of the way. He cuts the appendage with his claws, he lifts his seat as a shield so he could get closer to the Doff, and swipes at them. The Doff dodges, bowling over an actual guest and making him scream. Disorientated, the Doff offers T’Challa the opportunity to get a kick in. The hit pushes the Doff further away and gets him incinerated by one of Loki’s spells.

Loki has his own disguise disengaged by Thor pushing him out of the way of a Doff. But Thor seems to have an altercation with some…thing else. He is kicking a seat for whatever reason. It doesn’t end up anywhere useful. Probably it was just in the way.

There is a loud buzzing noise, insect-people—Spus, according to Loki—that Barnes is scaling the arch at the front to watch for and, if necessary, shoot.

“Show,” Tony orders and T’Challa makes his way to him as a screen unfurls.

“Please, everybody calm down,” Ethan finally repeats.

Ethan ducks under a swinging Peter, who shouts, “Sorry!”

“Dammit!” Ethan curses and shoots another Doff.

T’Challa nods at Teela again and the Doras take their position at the holes left by the poles.

“What do we have?” T’Challa asks.

“About five dozen warrior-aliens,” Tony asks. “Guns.”

On the holographic screen that is projected by Tony’s watch, multiple weapons fold out of the poles and the AIs lift their arms.

“That is sixty warriors,” T’Challa checks.

Tony fleetingly looks at him. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” T’Challa says, while signaling Teela.

“Please, calm down,” Ethan says. “Let us have a chance at eliminating the aliens. Please, calm down. Take a seat.”

Potts turns to Tony and opens her mouth, prompting T’Challa to insert himself between them.

“Ms. Potts this is not the time,” T’Challa warns politely.

Tony is engrossed in his screen.

“My Stark!” Wade, who is dispatching another Doff, shouts.

Peter is diving for Tony.

No, not for Tony.

For the Doff.

The one that used to be the priest.

And who is almost touching Tony.

T’Challa pulls Tony away and twists to kick Peter out of danger.

But T’Challa was too late.

The Doff touched Tony.

Wade is here, swords swinging. Barnes shoots the tentacle. Between their efforts, the Doff is killed.

Loki appears in front of them. “How long?” he demands.

“A few fractions of a second,” T’Challa promptly answers.

Loki’s still tense. “They cannot have gotten much.”

“Just the fact that we’re three,” Tony says. He shakes himself off. “And our general locations.”

Loki nods. “Good. That is good. What about—?”

“They got nothing else.” Tony explains, “I realized what was happening and T’Challa pulled me back.”

“We have two under a sleeping spell.” Loki’s visibly relieved. “How does it look out there?”

The Doras are ready.

“I got another with a tranq gun,” Barnes interrupts as he climbs down from the arch above them. “I need Loki to do his thing.”

Loki waves his hand and puts the Doff to sleep. Barnes comes closer to Tony. And together with Thor, they form a shield around Loki and Tony.

“Fire,” Tony commands and he gestures at his screen.

Outside the warriors that didn’t arrange themselves out of arm-distance of the AIs, preferring the flesh-and-blood Doras, are under fire. Hulks growls and plows into the alien-warriors on the right, and Drax, on the other side, does the same. That leaves the Doras with two sides.

“I’ve got to g—” What Peter says gets lost. He’s already gone.

T’Challa watches as Peter kicks a Spu. Another is downed by Barnes’ three shots, and Wade hits a third one, but it doesn’t go down. In the meantime, the circle around Tony and Loki tightens.

“One more wave,” Tony says, licking his lips in thought. “They are going to be more conspicuous.”

“We cannot let them get away,” Loki says.

T’Challa nods and gestures to the Doras, who increase the power of their blasts. There are a few who are injured, but mostly there are scrapes and bruises. The Doras have not lost their touch.

Wade stabs the last Doff and joins Barnes in shooting Spus.

Thor takes flight, making his companions tighten the circle again. The sky darkens as Thor gathers the lightning. With a shout—

“Are we?” Wade asks.

“The poles are lightning rods,” Tony retorts quickly.

—Thor releases the lightning.

The _boom_ is deafening. T’Challa has trouble keeping his feet under him. He’s disorientated for a bit, so he chooses to lean towards Tony. If somebody else were to take advantage of this moment, T’Challa will make sure he did his best to protect Tony.

It is quiet for a few seconds.   

T’Challa blinks.

And the world restarts.

The Spus drop like flies and, in a grotesque resemblance to meteors, they are nothing but a pile of scorched delicate wings and smoldering flesh.

Several guests and two bodyguards lose their lunch.

It took ten…twenty minutes, at best. In the end, there’s an awful smell coming from the burnt bodies, the invaders now know about their three main figures and their general locations, and there are a lot of guests missing, replaced with Doffs. Also, on the subject of being a lot of, there’s plenty of smoke and alien blood, and there are many bullet casings and debris. The work for the hospitals, law enforcement, and themselves is barely beginning.

And so, T’Challa observes, “They didn’t use technology.”

“Outside plain plasma blasters, no,” Tony says.  He turns to Hogan, Potts, and Rhodes, who defended the two. “Are you all right?”

Rhodey gives a decisive, “Yes.”

Hogan nods, possibly shocked, and Pepper opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

“You should see a doctor,” Tony tells her. He seems concerned. “Happy, will you go with her? Make sure they treat you too.”

Yes, Hogan is definitely shocked.

But Pepper stops before she goes. “Thank you.”

Tony smiles.

“And make sure you’ll be around to receive your thanks after,” Potts warns firmly.

T’Challa would have liked to see an apology, but that may be just him. He reminds himself that he saw the situation firmly from Tony’s side. In the end, maybe Potts’ round-about vote of confidence will do. As she turns, T’Challa knows there won’t be anything else.

“Are you?” T’Challa asks Tony. “Are you all right?”

Tony doesn’t look, but he leans on T’Challa. “Yes. Nothing too traumatic happened.” Tony ponders something. “I’d hate to be Zorex when this is over.”

T’Challa smiles and shrugs lightly. “We all do our part.”

“Can I tell them you said that?” Tony’s eyes positively glow with mischief.

T’Challa tries to think of a way to say ‘fuck, no,’ in polite company while still conveying the strength of the sentiment.

 


	14. Chapter 14

T’Challa very carefully doesn’t listen.

“Have you ever considered sound-proof rooms?” Tony asks as he enters the Tribe room.

“It negates our culture,” Shuri says.

“Okay, so not rooms,” Tony accepts easily. “But how about _a_ room? Where people can go and shout?”

“Still negates our culture,” Shuri maintains.

“Okay. Sorry,” Tony offers. “How do you deal with people arguing?”

The end of his sentence is drowned by Peter and Wade’s voices, but his point is made.

“We pretend we cannot hear,” Shuri answers calmly.

Tony doesn’t seem impressed, but his lips tug up into a smile. “I guess every culture has its own little fallacies. No secrets in the Tribe, right? I guess it’s better than betting on it.”

Nareema coughs. “You can look at it as training for reading conviction in others.”

“You could.” Tony’s face is saying he’s not buying it. “Am I wrong to assume that many take to the wilderness?”

“Yes, many choose the much the more dignified version of yelling among other animals,” Shuri replies, rolling her eyes. “How do you deal with it?”

“Same as you do.” Tony shrugs and smiles cheekily. “I guess you spoiled me with your logical solutions.”

Shuri snorts. “We’re still people.”

“If a citizen wants a change, he gathers others who agree, they write a proposal, and submit it for debate,” T’Challa says. 

“Ah, there it was,” Tony says and gestures theatrically. “The logical solution.”

“You just called it that because it was T’Challa who suggested it,” Shuri accuses.

“I do like him more than you,” Tony shoots back. “You’re mean.”

Shuri’s not convinced. “So are you. Besides, it’s very difficult to get something passed in the debates. I wasn’t giving you false hope for undisturbed… what were you doing?”

“Final check-up of the troupes and armament,” Tony provides.

Nareema’s eyes widen slightly. “I’m going to tell them to cut it out.”

“A hundred on it being over in five minutes,” Tony hurriedly says.

Nareema listens. “No bet.”

“Fine.” Tony sighs despondently.

_“But why’d you have to kill them?”_ Peter shouts as he has for the past twenty minutes.

_“Why did you have to sacrifice yourself?”_ Wade yells back.

Nothing is resolved. Wade will always have a problem with Peter’s self-sacrificing ways and Peter will have an issue with Wade’s ‘kill first, ask questions never.’ Peter has to understand that Wade deals with psychopaths and not purse-snatchers, and Wade has to get that Peter has been super-hero since he was fifteen for it to get anywhere. A compromise might be reached, but they have to put themselves in each other’s shoes first. Tony was right: they have a lot of work before them.   

So do the rest of them. The time has almost run out. This is it: final checks, well wishes, promises, goodbyes. The world is retreating behind the walls of the bunkers.

*

There are no more words: a hug, a nod, a smile, a kiss.

It begins.

*

T’Challa looks around him. He sees a lot of workstations and holographic screen, and few people attached to them. More people are on defense trying not to get in the way while doing their best to protect the key people in the room.

So…

This is a command center. T’Challa has never had occasion to form one in his time as king. Furthermore, there has never been one in his lifetime. Skirmishes were led usually from the field, and he often fought with his Tribe. The Black Panther was one of the advantages they had. But this necessitates the leadership to have a broader view. Shuri, M’Baku, and Teela are forced to keep their distance, and he is required to be in a room with Tony, Zemo, Chaushiku, Ochieng, and assorted bodyguards.

Nareema, too, is put in a different position than accustomed. She has the command of the five Doras and another six securing the room. Peter has to do his best to prevent Wade from disrupting, and Wade has to help point Peter at the enemy since the screens seem to steal his attention. And Barnes has taken advantage of the high ceilings of the Tribe room—and of Peter’s perpetually good mood—to arrange a cradle for his body in one of the upper corners of the room. He swings lazily. Out of all of them, T’Challa thinks that Barnes, Zemo, Chaushiku, and Ochieng are the most settled in their role. Tony is a wild card.

But, it is what it is.

It happens slowly, so slowly that T’Challa doesn’t notice it. He feels… that everything has a dreamlike quality. Nothing seems real. It’s simply too big—that moment, it’s simply too big to be aware of, to fully comprehend. He feels, oddly enough, like laughing.

“We are all present and accounted for.” Tony’s voice rings out, echoing in the startled emptiness of T’Challa mind. “Are you in position?”

T’Challa swallows. He latches on to Tony’s voice, breathing carefully and lifting himself out of whatever state that was. T’Challa breathes deeply and subtly. He doesn’t want to scare anyone. A deep inhale is hidden by shifting screens, and a long exhale is obscured by a checking his beads. He has to do this. There are people counting on him. He needs to just…

Wait.

T’Challa _can_ do this. What the fuck is wrong with him? T’Challa shakes his head. He feels reality burst around him in full color. With a blink, he’s back. He hadn’t even realized he was gone.

With another breath, T’Challa’s hands go through the workstation checks automatically. He knows the technology like the back of his hand. His screen doesn’t flicker as he passes his hand through it, and he’s done. As expected, everything is working well. He is satisfied.

But someone did see. When T’Challa turns to the rest of the room, he realizes he’s being watched. His eyes flicker toward the other wall, high up, where Barnes gives him a nod. T’Challa stares for a second, before giving a small smile, nothing more than a slight curve of lips, and moving along.

Their works stations are arranged in a circle with Zemo standing with his back towards the door, Ochieng and Chaushiku are facing the door, leaving T’Challa and Tony the opposite walls.  Besides Barnes, who hangs over Tony’s head, there are two Doras at the door, two Doras at the windows, and two Doras behind T’Challa. Wade and Peter are underneath Barnes.

“Are you in position?” Tony repeats. His voice doesn’t have any underlining tension. It’s as if he has already finished freaking out, like… he had a deadline on feeling scared or concerned and it passed. All that’s left is this, here, now. 

T’Challa doesn’t know if he should want that.

“We are,” Loki’s smooth voice is heard. “The Fantastic Four have just arrived. The military, the Avengers, FRIDAY, and the X-men are ready.”

“We’re in position,” Doom reports. “The military, the Guardians, and Stephen Strange’s warlock team are ready.”

A voice is caught by the transmitter. _“Doctor. Doctor Strange.”_ The voice is summarily ignored.

Tony snorts. “Play nice, children. Form grudges now, act on them after.”

“Good plan, Stark,” Loki banters. “Thoroughly unconnected, I need a list.”

“If you can’t remember their faces, you aren’t entitled the grudge,” Doom claims.

“Says the man who wears a mask,” Tony quips.

“Say the men who wear masks,” Loki adds.

Tony and Doom protest, and it’s relaxed and amused. The time seems to pass more easily. T’Challa listens while fighting the need to check his workstation again.

“Wakandans ready?” T’Challa asks quietly, the moment the ships begin to appear on Tony’s screen.

Every single conformation helps keep the panic at bay.

And there is panic to be had. They come like the water that sneaks between the rocks. There aren’t many ships yet, but by their lack of hesitation, it’s clear they come in big numbers. Not only that, but they come from directions of the map, attacking from every direction. They appear to have the certainty that they will drown Earth.

“Fuck you and your conga lines,” Tony spits and T’Challa feels better all of a sudden. “Plan A is down.” Not a lot better.

T’Challa studies the screen. “You were expecting them to directly overwhelm us.”

“Expecting is a strong word.” Tony shrugs. “But if they had, it would have been preferable.”

“We do have other letters in the alphabet,” Doom says and it doesn’t quite sound like an inquiry, but it is.

“Sure,” Tony offers. His fingers activate something that is labeled in code and he doesn’t say anything more. T’Challa can’t shake the feeling that this is bad news.

“They’re taking battle formations,” Zemo announces as the ships begin to reform ranks.

“I don’t want that, locate the weak spots,” Tony replies. “I need some help with three firewalls.”

“Send them over,” Chaushiku says.

“We’ll have them in a jiffy,” Ochieng adds.

“Here you are.” Tony’s screens lit up for a second like the rainbow. “Whoa.” He blinks fast before the lights settle down.

“Sorry, Boss,” FRIDAY apologizes. “There was a lot of overlap between my evaluation and Col—”

“Just Zemo, not a colonel anymore,” Zemo mentions.

“Between my evaluation and Zemo’s. Plus the additional measures. I messed with the colors, it should be better now,” FRIDAY finishes.

“It is. Thank you, Fry.” Tony studies the screens and inputs an authorization code. “I agree with most. Zemo, why this one?”

Zemo barely waits to see what Tony’s talking about. “That one is mostly a guess based on former reports.”

“You’re thinking waves or hives?” Tony asks.

“Waves,” Zemo replies.

“Okay, let’s see if you were right.” Tony highlights the spots on the map, inputs another code, and leans back. “Deploy.”

AIs become visible all over the map. They slide in-between ships easily, like fish through water, sometimes making the ships attack at random, each other, or stop and bump into each other. The AIs launch missiles, which are horrifyingly effective if T’Challa was inclined to think about the sheer number of people that die when each ship explodes, and two… no three of them are lost. Well, it would be more accurate to say their bodies are lost.

After that assault, chaos rules. There aren’t any more battle formations, including the one that Zemo pointed out. For a full minute, they seem undecided what to do about the threat, with some of them following the AIs, some disorientated by their presence, and some having expecting it.

Ochieng says, “We are done.”

“Forwarding to you now,” Chaushiku adds, arranging it.

“Thank you.” Tony’s fingers are a blur. “I’m in their comm systems. Any volunteers for identifying them? I’m looking for the Doffs and the Fibachi. Maybe even the Shis.”

Fibachi are a race of people who have managed to somehow use the sun as a satellite so their communications are up every time they are in one’s gravitational pull, while Shis are a race of empaths that can project emotions and use their victims to propagate an emotion even further as the people are given to feeling them—with humans they may possibly carry that emotion as far as Mars.

That makes sense, Tony’s scared about information leaking, but…

“What about the Pvaka?” T’Challa asks.

“They can’t communicate off-planet. They aren’t my problem,” Tony says. “But they aren’t going to be much of one for you.”

While it is true that Loki says that the Pvaka are telepaths who have to train many years to leave their mind uncluttered and have had serious problems reading less-disciplined minds, the offhand remark about their communication makes T’Challa wonder. That means that Tony’s concern remains the propagation of information over long distances. But why? Why is _Tony_ worried about something like that when he already showed his hand? Unless… It can be that Tony has a plan beyond the AIs.

That’s both interesting, hopeful and might mean that Tony has an ace for T’Challa if… _when_ the invasion reaches the planet.

T’Challa nods.

“I can help. Count me as a volunteer,” Gamora cuts in.

“Groot can help too,” Rocket says. “And me too, obviously.”

“I can identify the Shis,” Mantis offers.

“Thank you.” Tony transfers some files. “I hate to hurry you, but…”

“Yeah, Stark, got it,” Quill says. “We’re sending them over as far as possible. I know most of the muscle. Kraglin and Drax can help too. We can cut some of their work.”

“Thank you,” Tony sings. “How far are they?”

“They are going to arrive in about five minutes,” Doom says.

“Okay,” Tony says. “Deploy.”

A second attack, from the back, lays out the closest ships to Earth. They weren’t expecting it. The ships are taken out easily. It’s normal that no one expected an assault, there was no way to create a cover. Under fire from all the other ships, the AIs losses are terrible. They fall by the hundreds. By the thousands.

Why?

Did Tony just sign away Earth defense capabilities for fifty ships? There are thousands more. Tony’s not an idiot, he wouldn’t do that.

So why?

Is Tony desperate? Does the situation look worse than he assumed? Is there no more hope?

T’Challa doesn’t think so.

“Here’s the first batch,” Quill says uncertainly. “Those who definitely aren’t—colored blue. Those who are—orange.”

“Great,” Tony says. He waits.

“The second batch,” Quill says five minutes later.

“Mmhmm.” Tony asks, “How far?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Zemo answers promptly.

They wait.

Quill says, “The third batch.”

“Ten minutes,” Zemo provides the information without needing to be asked.

Tony white knuckles his grip on the edge of the table.

“Fourth batch,” Quill says.

“How many batches are there?” Tony asks.

“Five.” Quill’s reply makes Tony’s jump in a flurry of motion to input something.

“Come on, come on,” Tony whispers.

“Five minutes,” Zemo announces.

“Not you,” Tony says quietly. “Come on, co—”

Quill interrupts, “Fifth batch.”

“Deploy,” Tony says as fast as possible.

On the screen, T’Challa sees… _destruction_. The AIs target the races with long-range communication. Although there are only about two thousand AIs left, they dropped slickness for accuracy and power.

T’Challa suddenly remembers M’Baku saying, _‘…thousands of ways of igniting and exploding shit.’_ And T’Challa feels like he is finally in a position to appreciate that. There is _nothing_ left of the ships targeted. None escaped. Just dust. And silence, both on the comms and in the room.

It’s chilling.

Wade bursts into giggles. “Good one, my Stark. I don’t know if this was the idea, and really, why wouldn’t it be, but you intimidated the hell out of us.” He claps slowly.

“I agree with the lunatic,” Doom says loftily.

“If I agree with them too, how much gold would I have to give so people will not say: ‘The lunatics agree?’” Loki asks idly.

T’Challa takes a breath. “Enough to make you a poor peasant,” he quips.

Something cracks in Tony’s neck when he snaps his head up to watch T’Challa with big, luminous eyes. T’Challa smiles. In return, Tony _beams_.

“It may be worth it,” Loki muses.

“You already said it, Lokes,” Tony says fondly, while he nods at Wade.

T’Challa can hear Loki huffing and Doom’s creaking laugh.

“One minute,” Zemo announces.

Back to work.

“Ships ready,” T’Challa orders to Teela.

“Yes, sir,” Teela acknowledged.

Meanwhile Tony asks, “Line to the UN?”

“You have it, Boss,” FRIDAY confirms.

“Prepare for redistribution,” Tony tells Gravish, the UN General in charge of security for this project.

Gravish has the unenviable role of herding whatever crafts aren’t already heading for New York, Wakanda, and Latveria, in their direction. Most of them will, T’Challa is aware of that, but he also knows that some won’t. Gravish’s job appears simple: to make sure the crafts land where they’re supposed to. T’Challa doesn’t want to think how much wrangling Gravish will have to do. Each one of them is playing their part.

“Will do,” Gravish answers. “Good luck.”

“Good luck.” Tony has a faint smile on his face.  “Incoming.”

“Incoming,” T’Challa repeats to the Tribes.

Wakandans are warriors. Sure, their technology is off the charts, they have an eco-friendly approach to most things, they have made advancements in almost every subject, with sciences taking the first place, and the society is nothing to sneeze at either. Still. Wakandans are warriors first and foremost.

Now, there are some Tribes whose strengths lie in chemical compounds that are designed for humans and they don’t know what effect, if any, they would have on aliens. That complicates matters a bit until they have the chance to test them, and it means that T’Challa is going to make sure they are protected before they can come up with something.  Other than that, he is going to do his best to shuffle his troops around so no aliens would stumble upon one of their evacuation ships. The old and young are already on board.

The reports start to come in, and T’Challa is successfully distracted from whatever happens next in the Command Centre.

Butterfly is one of the Tribes who has a hallucinogenic poison as their means of defense and is the first place the aliens land. Luckily, they are ready for that precise situation: Crocodile and Hyena are covering the three Tribes. There are no problems raised. Between the first one’s strategy of lying in wait and second’s hit-and-run tactics, T’Challa isn’t expecting any.

Then they get invaders on Nightingale land, on Elephant, Wildebeest, Mongoose, and Turtle. Mongoose is a Tribe that usually has skirmishes with Snake, so they developed sturdy armor and light enough to match their considerable speed, and Turtle has similar tactics, only they go for decreased speed and perfect protection. They shouldn’t have any problems, either, but…

“Warthog, Hippopotamus, and Oxpecker, be advised: Turtle and Mongoose might need your help,” T’Challa says. He waits for their confirmations, and then adds, “Lion, go to Nightingale, keep to the sidelines unless otherwise ordered.”

As T’Challa received the last confirmation, he analyzes the map, and says, “Impala, be ready to aid Elephant and Wildebeest.”

Lizard and Locust are on the tail of the invaders and at the sites of the ships. They report only aliens that base their attacks on power, size, technology, and various useful limbs. No means to control them and no surprises. They got lucky.

Too lucky.

“Locust and Lizard find out if those species are it,” T’Challa orders with a frown. It’s too easy. “Butterfly, Snake, any progress?”

“My King, we need two squadrons of Doras on skycycles to distract them. We estimate that we are in place to give a mortal strike,” Selat, Chieftain of the Hyena Tribe says.

“You have them.” Doras are the relief forces and he passes on the conversation. T’Challa only asks Teela, “How long until they get there?”

“Five minutes,” Teela replies to both T’Challa and Selat.

T’Challa is satisfied with that answer as he is with Butterfly’s report that their poison is effective against the Spus. They seem to congregate on the Palace, so he sends them to aid Panther and Ape. He barely spares a thought to think about how insulting it is that they don’t merit more than insect people.

It’s too easy.

A ship filled with Pvaka is next to land, but before T’Challa has time to contact the Doras, Snake discovers that their poison makes the Pvaka _melt_.

Huh.

“It’s possible that they have some rodent DNA,” Ch’Azi, Chieftain of the Snake Tribe, reports cheerfully.

All right. That couldn’t have been planned. Probably. But there’s something he can’t shake, something that tells T’Challa it’s been too easy. He extends his senses and thinks about warning those entrusted with his safety as well as the two Tribes who are stationed around the Palace. However, his warning would do more harm than good. After all, nobody sleeps in the middle of an attack. He trusts them and he is aware that everything that can be done is being done.

T’Challa moves two squadrons of Doras to a part of the country he hasn’t heard anything about.

What now? If he’s not paranoid, then they have other means of escaping undetected. There’s not a lot that can get past the security system, two Tribes, and the Doras. Maybe a bomb of some sort, in a craft that they can’t detect?

“My King, we have found a sort of device on the alien ships,” Dalic, Chieftain of Lizard Tribe, says. “It’s like a soup bowl turned upside down. About the same dimensions. There are a lot of them, stuck to the outside. And… oh, it’s—sir, it has the Stark Industries logo on it. It also emanates a force field that doesn’t allow us to get aboard the ship.”

T’Challa’s head snaps up, the question on his lips. But, there’s another thing that makes his head turn to the door. It’s a smell. His nose reaches that conclusion faster than his thoughts do. A slightly putrid smell. Moist. Humidity that seems out of place. He’s rolling before he realizes what he’s doing.

The noise the workstation makes when struck by… whatever is odd. A fwooph kind of sound. Yes, that used to be his workstation and now it has a hole in it, but the important thing is that he couldn’t tell what happened to it. The attackers seem invisible. He doesn’t know if they have weapons or appendages. He has no idea how they look. Or where they are.

“Intruders,” T’Challa remarks, a tad loudly, as he keeps moving. If anyone in the room has any questions about his workstation developing a hole they should be now enlightened. “Shuri, M’Baku. There are invisible intruders in the Command Centre. Tell the others, including New York and Latveria. Acknowledge that and the transfer of command.”

Peter, who was next to Tony imputing something into his workstation, is sent flying through the bullet-proof transparent steel of a window. Barnes is shooting at nothing, and Wade is, also, waving his swords around hoping to strike something. The Doras are moving forward, clearing the space in a pattern. Ochieng and Chaushiku keep trying on different vision filters. Probably trying to see something.

T’Challa sees them all in flashes. Twice now, he felt something near. His luck can’t hold.

“Acknowl—” T’Challa starts to shout as he is being launched into the wall. “Fuck.”

“Acknowledged,” M’Baku says grimly a fraction of a second before T’Challa’s sister.

“Acknowledged,” Shuri says. “Doras incoming. Three minutes. Hold on.”

T’Challa grabs something. He doesn’t know if it’s a weapon or a limb, but he ranks his claws through it. It sparks. But also—possibly—bleeds. An ugly green. Or that’s just the oil. If there’s even a lubricant needed for their weapons.

Wade’s approach seems to have worked. He hits something that makes a deafening screeching sound. So, he follows the noise to the source and lobs it off. Next thing they know a huge bird-person with long reaching talons and smallish wings, a T-Rex of birds… Wait. Could they be a descendant? Anyway, it topples over. Wade took off its—his or her?—head.

Loki hadn’t mentioned them.

The hole in T’Challa’s workstation was probably made by a talon. And that was probably blood. But what sparked?

Barnes rapidly fires making green blood spatter everywhere, but no more visible bird-people.

T’Challa jumps. He makes sure it’s higher than the deceased bird-person was and hopes they don’t have an overly long neck. Within a few seconds, he rolls through the air, and bears down on his claws, cutting deeply into what he assumes is the bird-person’s back. A shower of sparks follows, a lot of blood, and he sees a bird-person with a sputtering metal-looking covering fall to the ground.

Soldiers and their commander?

“We found it!” Ochieng and Chaushiku shout.

Barnes finally succeeds, and his bird-person becomes bird-persons, two of them, that he managed to kill. 

Tony hasn’t looked up from his screens.

“Wilson, to your left!” Chaushiku and Ochieng warn. “It’s the magnetic filter.”

T’Challa activates the bead. He looks around. And sees it. “Tony!” he shouts. A bird-commander is right next to Tony, preparing to strike.

Zemo is there. Standing protectively between Tony and the bird-commander. Tony takes a startled breath. T’Challa can hear it, impossible with the other noises, but he can. Tony tries to dodge and take Zemo with him… But it’s too late. The bird-commander tears a claw through Zemo’s side.

Barnes snipes. Wade cuts. The Doras fight. Peter is back and webs. T’Challa kicks. Tony shoots. The bird-people are dead. There’s a puddle of blood rapidly forming under Zemo. It’s over.

“Medic!” Chaushiku calls.

“Wear a magnetic filter,” Ochieng adds.

T’Challa goes over to their workstations and takes over. The battle may be won, there may be casualties, and the war is still going on. “Peter, help keep the wound closed. Ochieng and Chaushiku, give Wade and Barnes beads and show them how to activate a filter. Wade, Barnes, Nareema stand watch,” he orders. “All Tribes and ships, activate your magnetic vision filter.”

There are a few surprised sounds that do not encourage T’Challa.

“We let New York and Latvia know,” M’Baku says.

Three doctors come and go, and the extra Doras take position around the room.

“Stand clear of the Thanos’ ships,” Tony announces suddenly. “Please, stand clear of the enemy ships. They are going to get a surprise in thirty seconds.”

And T’Challa suddenly remembers what Dalic said. T’Challa doesn’t have command anymore, but he listens to M’Baku and Shuri relaying the message. The good thing is that the force field is still activated. They hadn’t broken in.

Tony starts counting as he inputs a code. “Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… Activate.”

All invader ships blow up.

Tony’s map practically whites out. He squints a little but keeps his eyes on it. T’Challa’s map is not much better. There are voices shouting, blocking the comms for a few seconds.

“Your plan,” T’Challa hears himself saying. “Blowing them up was your original plan.”

“Yeah.” Tony sighs. “But I couldn’t find enough space to assure the explosion, to power the force field that contains it, and to make them all work on individual channels.” He shrugs. “I was more worried about foreign materials somehow neutralizing it.”

“When they came one by one, you had to wait until they were all in range,” T’Challa says as he listens to Shuri and M’Baku pushing the Tribes and the Doras to take advantage. “The communications and the force field. You were afraid that they’re going to find out and, also, that our people will get blown up with them.” T’Challa nods. “Makes sense.”

“Now they are contained, we just have to win at home,” Tony notes.

“It’s looking likely,” T’Challa says, looking at his map. “Only three, no, only two more groups in Wakanda.”

It’s strangely quiet in the Command Centre. T’Challa’s voice is loud in the silence. Is it the same every time? After the maneuvers and tactics are done, is that what’s left? Waiting.

As T’Challa watches finally group’s light changing into green, he says quietly, “We won.”

Tony’s map takes a few more minutes to clear. “We won,” he confirms. He doesn’t seem to believe it.

Wade cheers, letting out a whoop. “We won!”

They won.

*

“How’s Zemo?” T’Challa asks as he comes to a stop next to Tony.

“He’s going to be fine, but it’s going to take some time.” Tony turns with a smile. “How’s the world?”

“Generally? It’s not going to be the same.”

“That may be good.” Tony leans on T’Challa. “What’s next?”

“Tomorrow we celebrate that we are alive,” T’Challa begins, nudging Tony with a smile. “The day after that we mourn those we lost. And then, we rebuild. Tonight, though, we sleep.”


	15. Chapter 15 - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support!

_10 years later_

T’Challa is bored. Though honestly speaking, at the moment, he’d rather be. He is reading a report on the serum that Tony had been injected with.

At one point, T’Challa remembers it being a problem for Tony, who didn’t think immortality was a good look on him, until they figured out that he does grow older, just slower. That was when Tony disappeared into a lab and came back with a distilled serum that had the slow aging component. He didn’t want to be alone, but, in the end, it was T’Challa’s choice.

T’Challa took it, Shuri is still thinking about it, and Ramonda didn’t.

Now, they are studying its interactions with different diseases. It is useful information, but biology was never his subject, and everyone knows it, so they try to simplify their reports. He’d rather they wouldn’t bother.

But, earlier in the day T’Challa was propositioned by one of Africa’s fellow rulers. Apparently, his marriage is not believed—not on the continent, not in the world. When T’Challa proceeded to confirm the existence of his husband and Tony’s identity, the person in question was so surprised that she fell on the desk she was—sensually?—propping on. Needless to say, fate arranged it so that Tony would not realize that the room was in use and enter.

Even if T’Challa wasn’t guilty, he had to admit that it looked bad.

Tony blinked and said, _“Is this something I need to know about?”_

 _“No,”_ T’Challa responded promptly. _“But, I’ll tell you later anyway.”_

 _“Okay,”_ Tony replied and exited the room.

So, T’Challa is bored but it’s better than the alternative.

The door opens.

A tiny tornado enters and disappears under the table in a flurry of movement. Ree’s voice floats out, “Hi, Baba.”

T’Challa narrows his eyes suspiciously. “Hello.” He hears Ree shift as if wanting to ask him to lie for her, but she knows better.

And sure enough, not even a minute later, with a knock, a burnt around the edges Tony enters.

“Hello again,” Tony says. He leans over and kisses T’Challa. “I’m here for our daughter, we’ll be going soon.”

“There’s no hurry,” T’Challa says with a smile. “At least no one is throwing themselves at me this time.”

They both ignore the confused sound coming from under the table.

“That still sounds like an interesting story.” Tony kisses T’Challa one more time and straightens. “Ree.”

T’Challa can almost feel his eleven-year-old daughter skulk.

“Don’t pout.” Apparently, so can Tony.

“Do I have to?” Ree asks in that tone that children everywhere have. The ‘I know I should, but I’m adorable so maybe this time I don’t have to’ tone.

“Yes,” Tony answers implacably.

With a lot less speed than she came in, Ree gets out. “Okay.” She sighs dramatically. “If I have to.” She turns big brown eyes on Tony.

“Those are good,” Tony says with raised eyebrows. “Next time pair them with a pout and you _might_ get what you want.” He offers his hand.

Ree takes it, looking like she is pondering the purpose of humans on Earth. T’Challa suspects she’s taking notes and making plans. That is touching a subject she doesn’t understand nearly as well as advanced physics and frequently leaves her stumped—people.

T’Challa, still relieved from the earlier incident and smiling at his husband with his daughter, remembers the most serious argument he ever had with Tony.

About three years after the invasion, Tony, while he was thinking about joining Panther Tribe, got attached to a four-year-old genius. Raunara, nicknamed by Tony: Ree. She had just been tested and her IQ was off the charts. T’Challa was aware that he was smart, he knew a lot of smart people in Wakanda, but that level of genius only Tony could truly comprehend. Add to that Ree’s engineering inclination and there is no better person. It seemed only natural.   

With only one problem: Tony didn’t understand.

So T’Challa took him aside and asked, _“Are you aware of what is happening?”_

 _“By the formality of your question, I’m starting to see I don’t,”_ Tony said with a frown.

_“Ree’s mother, her sister and maybe Ree herself are expecting us to adopt her.”_

Tony actually took a step back. _“What?”_

 _“They are simply watching how you interact with her so that we may be at one point… I think the words that best contain the same concept would be: primary caretakers.”_ T’Challa watched Tony. _“That way, we—and especially you—get the right to make decisions for her. Of course, that’s only after you belong to a Tribe._ If _you decide to belong to a Tribe. And even if you do, this is going to take time.”_ He took a deep breath. _“Nonetheless, I thought you should know.”_

Tony brought up a hand to rub his forehead. _“What are you talking about? I know that she doesn’t have a father, that he died during the invasion, but that’s what I thought having a tribe meant. Support, financial and emotional. So you can keep your kids,”_ he said. He was forcing himself to be calm.

Yes, that was going to be a problem.

_“A Tribe means whatever you want it to mean, that’s the point.”_

_“Fine. But that still doesn’t explain the other thing.”_ Tony studied T’Challa. _“They love each other.”_

_“It doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other, it just means that you are getting through to Ree better.”_

_“I could still advise on Ree even if I’m not her parent.”_

_“But these would be your decisions,”_ T’Challa said. _“There’s a possibility her mother won’t want to listen to you when she should. Or maybe there’s fallout from them that only you could solve. You would put Ree in a position to depend on someone who didn’t want to tie himself to her fate. It wouldn’t be fair to any of you.”_

Tony closes his eyes. _“That’s absurd.”_

 _“And that doesn’t mean that her mother and sister won’t love her anymore,”_ T’Challa offered. _“They will still be Tribe.”_ T’Challa paused to find a word. _“They will still be family.”_

 _“I don’t understand, T’Challa,”_ Tony says and it is so wretched that T’Challa’s heart broke.

 _“I think….”_ T’Challa thought desperately. _“We’re having cultural differences.”_

 _“Can you_ explain _?”_ Tony asked. He seemed despondent. _“Because from where I’m standing… it’s not looking good.”_

And T’Challa knew what Tony wanted, he wanted to understand, but T’Challa couldn’t know if he’d succeed.

 _“All right.”_ T’Challa was going to do this. _“A Tribe is a family of choice. You choose them and they choose you.”_ He waits for Tony’s nod before he continues, _“That means that maybe we view family differently than you do. If there is somebody inside the Tribe who might get along better with my child, who knows better than me what the child needs, it’s not a matter of giving my child away, but it’s a matter of arranging it legally so that they might have the right to make those decisions. Yes, it means less authority over the child, but, considering that they know better, it’s a good thing. Things like my love for them aren’t relevant because I love them before, during, and afterward. There isn’t a difference.”_

 _“It’s still a big change,”_ Tony objected. _“And if I adopt her—if we adopt her, I’ll love her as my own.”_

 _“And you don’t love Peter?”_ T’Challa asked. The question had a definite edge so he took a deep breath. He couldn’t lose his patience now. _“You love all your children, nobody expects you to… feel nothing. In fact, everyone expects you to do exactly that—love them. And yes, Sharu and Dina will make a sacrifice. It’s not as big as you think, they’re sharing her with you, but yes.”_

 _“I’m selfish.”_ Tony shook his head. _“I was never a sharer.”_

_“Does that mean that you won’t allow people to love your d—children?”_

_“I will, but they’re going to be_ my _children.”_

_“And you won’t care with all your heart for other children in the Tribe?”_

_“I will,”_ Tony admitted hesitantly.

_“And if we were to have a child that chooses to live in a different Tribe wouldn’t you still love them?”_

Tony said through clenched teeth, _“I will.”_

 _“Then I don’t understand the problem,”_ T’Challa confessed.

They studied each other in silence.

 _“I need to think.”_ Tony sighed. _“Can you meet her tomorrow?”_

 _“Of course, Tony,”_ T’Challa agreed.

Tony nodded. He wasn’t around for the next three days. For about two weeks, he was there only when Ree was. T’Challa hoped that Tony was confiding in Ramonda, or Shuri, or Zorex, or… anybody, because T’Challa couldn’t help him on this one. Slowly, but surely, Tony came back. He chose to be a part of the Panther Tribe, but before he accepted Dina’s proposal he had something to ask T’Challa.

_“Do you want a daughter?”_

T’Challa could only answer honestly, _“I want Ree.”_

Every other argument T’Challa has had with Tony hasn’t caused such cold uncertainty. It frightened T’Challa, but it couldn’t be fixed by a few words. Luckily, it ended well.

Now, curious about what new and interesting situations his husband and his daughter got themselves in, T’Challa leaves after them. He detours to get a big towel. This feels like an explosion sort of happenstance and he knows what follows. Too bad he’s only allowed to get one for Tony as per T’Challa’s arrangement with Teela. When a similar occurrence first happened, there were eight smiling Doras waiting with towels, so Teela thought she’d use it as an award: Ree’s Towel Giver.

“But Papa,” Ree is saying, “the substance is not toxic.”

“So?” Tony asks with a raised eyebrow.

Ree opens her mouth then she thinks better of it. She grumbles a bit and drags her feet. Finally, she sighs—dramatically, so dramatically—and says, “Okay. But it was an awesome panther.” She releases Tony’s hand to crosses her arms. “Just so you know.”

“It _is_ an awesome panther,” Tony quips, steps forward to embrace her and smiles widely. “You didn’t account for its weight with the addition of friction, but now you know better.”

Any other words Tony may have said are lost when they are doused with foam.

Nareema has left dignity behind and bounces next to T’Challa carrying a towel big enough for Ree to drown in. The other Doras express their disappointment by heckling her, but it’s not done with any sort of conviction. T’Challa sighs. His daughter has everybody wrapped around her little finger.

Including T’Challa.

As soon as they’re out, T’Challa hurries towards them and has them in a warm embrace before Nareema could move. He only has time to smirk, before Nareema topples him over in her quest to take his place. T’Challa’s eyes narrow, a laugh stopping in his throat. He attacks and, inadvertently, takes Tony, who has just recovered his balance, with him.

“Another explosion?” Harley asks amusedly.

“A small fire, the panther Ree was testing survived and the panther’s AI was shielded by FRIDAY,” Teela provides. T’Challa can hear the smile in her voice. “Ree hadn’t accounted for friction.”

“Argh, I always used to forget that. It’s a _drag_.” Harley laughs. “Is Peter around?”

“Yes, but I warn you: Wade’s about to return soon,” Teela notes.

“They have been together for five years already, the honeymoon phase should be over and done with,” Harley complains.

Tony chuckles lightly. “It’s not a phase.” He tells T’Challa, “Let me up.”

“Are you done, Tony?” Harley asks.

Tony is suddenly suspicious. “Yes.”

“I have news,” Harley says, “But before that…”

Tony dodges Harley’s first launch, but Harley knows him well and Tony doesn’t escape the second time. Peter, as if summoned by the sound of a good foam fight, jumps in the middle. And with a squeal, Ree joins in. T’Challa is taken down by virtue of his position next to Tony. That’s T’Challa’s defense and he’s sticking with it.

“Say ‘uncle,’” Harley growls without malice.

“News!” Tony shouts. “You had news!”

Harley gives Tony a glare but helps him up. “Your popularity has risen three points,” he snickers and Tony groans.

Tony is largely considered Earth’s Savior, with Doom and Loki coming at a bit of a distance, then T’Challa, the Avengers, X-Men, Strange’s team, the Guardians, UN pilots, Gravish, Wakanda’s military, New York’s and Latveria’s, as well as any and all people who fought aircrafts that managed to end up somewhere else.

T’Challa has obtained his Accord of Non-Interference with his fame, but Tony is still being followed by the paparazzi and fans outside Wakanda. An ending isn’t in sight, but Tony is used to it. What he isn’t used to, is his popularity. That, Tony considers bewildering.

“Maximoff has returned to the Avengers. I don’t think anyone remembers her,” Harley says, counting off his fingers. He’s really Tony’s mini-me. “And Bucks meet up with Rogers went well.” He shivers dramatically, and T’Challa has to agree. Barnes and Rogers had a huge blow out about their values a few months after the invasion. “And Vision sent pictures.” After he was done traveling around the globe, he left with the Guardians.

“Yay, pictures,” Ree cheers. She is closest to Vision out of all her older siblings. “Who do you need to show them to us?”

Harley shrugs. “Wade, M’Baku, Shuri, Ochieng, Chaushiku, and everyone who’s interested.”

Ree has her thinking face on. “Done.” She bolts through the Palace doors.

“You realize,” Tony says wryly.

Harley laughs. “Yes.”

That is probably directed towards what Ree might see, but T’Challa’s not worried. Shuri and M’Baku may not have learned to mark the room they happen to use but that was before Zurra entered with her odorous decomposing samples and T’Challa has managed to inspire Ree to check the availability of a room to preserve someone’s privacy. Ree caught on quick that it is mostly a measure used for sex or politics. She conceded without trouble.

T’Challa leans back and makes himself comfortable in Tony’s embrace, thankful for the warm day.

While they wait for Ree, it occurs to T’Challa for the hundredth time today, as it does most days, that he’s lucky. They have been through a lot, they have survived it, and they’re still here. His Tribe, his country, and his planet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to comment (or just talk to me) you can do it here or on my [tumblr](http://e-alexandrescu.tumblr.com/).


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